Home, Sweet Home
by Terri Kendra
Summary: Norman Bates is back to his old ways but this round the citizens of Fairvale, California aren't going to let him get away with it. There's no insanity plea for Norman this time, not if they have anything to say about it. Takes place after Psycho IV.
1. Chapter 1

Home, Sweet Home

It's that lurid face.

That gruesomely, cadaverous face staring back; but she was so beautiful, so full of life. Her hair went on forever, her eyes were picturesque windows to the soul, and her lips were as sweet as honey when she smiled. But now she is dead. She's been dead for forty years. But if she's dead why does she keep coming back? Why can't she just be happy dead? But she's not happy and she's not dead. She's always there; she always knows what you're thinking. She knows what you are going to do before you do. How? How can she stay ahead of you? How does she know?

She knows because she's your mother.

The chirp of a phone ringing shatters the placid house and wakes him. He springs up from the couch drenched in sweat, uncomfortable in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Where did she go? She was right there! She was standing right in front of him inside Cabin One! But he wasn't in Cabin One. He wasn't at the motel and he wasn't even in Fairvale.

He was at home, he was safe, and most importantly he was sure that she was still dead.

He reaches for the phone, uncertain if he was still in a dream; hoping, just hoping, it was truly over.

"H-e-el-llo?" He stammers weakly.

"Norman…"

Reality came crashing over him like an unforgiving wave of ocean water devouring the beach in a storm. It was his wife Connie, not the voice he expected but certainly the voice he would rather talk to.

"Oh hey, Swe-sweet heart. I was expecting Dr. Rosenblum to call," He says, wiping the sweat from his brow, "How was the doctor's visit? Did Adam chhh-e-eck out ok?"

Norman casts his eyes over to the TV where a reflection that wasn't his is glaring back at him. Those dark, dead sunken eyes, that perfectly preserved lifeless body, that neatly kept wig that hid the rotten skull, and the hair that was falling out, it almost looks like…he quickly closes his eyes.

"Yes Norman, Dr. Willingham said Adam was fine, although he does have a cold. But it's nothing unusual for a child of his age. He'll be back to his normal three year old, temper tantrum self in a few days," Connie says with a laugh.

Norman burst into laughter. He never thought he would be able to associate the word 'normal' with his bloodline let alone his own son. Connie had been right. Adam was a blessing and not the foreboding curse Norman had feared. The heinousness ended with Norman and his rein of monstrosity.

"Yes, I suppose your right. When are you coming home?"

"We're on our way now. Do you want me to stop by and get anything on the way?"

"Oh no," he says opening his eyes, "No, I don't need anything. I cooked you're favorite dinner tonight. Hurry home so it doesn't get too co-o-old and be careful the storm is getting closer."

"I will. Norman you know you didn't have to…"

A cacophony noise shattered the pleasant conversation abruptly. Norman startled and lost his grip on the phone. He watched helplessly as it appeared to fall in slow motion to the floor and then landed with a loud thump. He looks down and a vision, a mirage misconstrued his sight. The phone shimmers and turns into a butcher knife covered in blood. He stares down at the phone blinking, unsure if what he was seeing was real, or his frantic mind running away again. An earsplitting static erupted from the receiver waking him from his delusion. The phone had returned so he reaches down and picks it up staring into the earpiece.

He hangs up and dials Connie's cell phone back. There's no answer.

A loud thunder clasp made the house rattle. The lights begin to flicker.

Norman decided he needed to hunt down some candles. It was only a matter of time before the power went out.

He walks over to the kitchen and just as he was about to open the junk drawer in the island the power goes out.

A lighting bolt lit up in the inside of the kitchen. Norman sees a figure standing over in the living room.

"Connie?" he calls out.

Another lighting strike lights up the living room where he can see the figure clearly.

It was his mother standing in front of him.

She looked like the mummified remains he used to keep in the fruit cellar of the old house.

He screams and runs out the back door. He stops in the yard and stares through the bay windows into the kitchen desperately trying to catch his breath.

Another lightning strike illuminates the empty kitchen and yard.

Norman stood in the yard as the rain begins to fall. It washes over him like a baptism for a tortured soul but he refuses to move. He refused to walk closer to the nightmare awaiting him.

No matter how hard it rained or how close the lightning got to him, Norman stood staring into the dark house. He couldn't bring himself to take a step inside. He couldn't bring himself to see if she was still there.

He swore under his breathe. He was acting like a child afraid of his own shadow and the boogeyman in the dark. He was letting his imagination run away with itself. Damn him for letting her win. No, damn her for still having power over him after all these years.

A sigh escapes his lips.

"Get it together Norman," he whispers, "Your acting like a fool. She's not in there and she can't hurt you anymore. She's dead DAMMIT!"

A voice came from behind him.

"Norman! Watch your mouth boy…or I'll wash it out with soap!"

Norman's eyes widened. The frail, elderly voice rang in his ears like a church bell. He could feel his heart take off and leap into his throat. His mouth suddenly dry he couldn't speak…or scream.

A hand gripped his shoulder.

"Do you hear me boy or has that whore taken your ears with your innocence?"

Norman closed his eyes tightly. He could feel the pressure of the hand on his shoulder. He could feel the fingernails dig into his soaked shirt and wet skin.

"Norman, get inside before you catch cold boy; I can't have you gettin' sick on me. You know what the neighbors will say…I don't take care of you…all that nonsense."

"Y—e—es, mother," he whispers on the verge of tears.

Norman took a slow, long step forward feeling the hand on his shoulder let go of its hold. He held his breathe and finally turned around slowly opening his eyes.

Lightning lit up the yard showing Norman his fears were not warranted. There was no one in the yard but him.

He suddenly turns and runs into the house locking the door behind him. He leans his head against the door breathing heavily just before hyperventilation.

Tears fall down on his cheeks and his nose begins to run.

The power finally came back on.

The longest sigh in history came out of his mouth. He wipes his nose and eyes off with his wet sleeve.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him. Dr. Rosenblum had told him, it might take a couple of weeks to get the dose of his new medication right. As if as the all tests weren't bad enough now the doctors were using Norman as a guinea pig. Every time a new anti-psychotic drug comes out they always test it out on him because 'he is a unique case'. Or so he was told. He kind of understood what they were talking about. It took over twenty years for him to realize that he killed all those people. But the frightening thing was he still didn't remember doing any of it. He had always blacked out so every time a body was found it was as much a surprise to him as everyone else.

He remembered seeing that woman in the lake. She had been there a few days. Her body was bloated and grossly disfigured. She had been stabbed and dumped in the lake, weighted down by a cement block. Norman had apparently killed her but he didn't recall the event. He had been out at the swamp looking for something when the body surfaced in the lake next to him.

He was still convinced to this day, the Sheriff heard him scream fifteen miles away in his office and that's how they knew where she was.

The phone chirped behind him.

"That must be Connie," he says.

Norman turns to walk toward the phone but is halted by his mother standing before him inches from his face.

A sharp pain hit him in the eyes and the room starts to spin.

"NORMAN! What did I tell you boy? Are you listening to me?"

"Mmm—mother?"

The old woman stepped up closer to him. She looked just as she did a week after he killed her. Her body preserved by the sand he used after he disemboweled her. The wig she wore looked almost like her natural hair.

He remembered the way she would cast her hair across his face tickling his nose. He always loved her hair. He was disappointed that it had fallen out in large clumps when he poisoned her…wait… he killed her…she can't be in front of him now. She's dead…she can't be here she's dead!

The room started to spin faster. The corners of Norman's eyes grew dark. He knew his eyes were opened but he could no longer see. He felt his heart pick up its pace. Sweat suddenly drenched his already damp shirt. He passed out and fell to the hard floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Norman shoots up from a dead sleep. He was on the couch but he didn't remember lying down. Actually he didn't remember much of anything from the night before. He knew he talked to Connie last night and then the line went dead. He remembered the power going out…or at least he thinks it did. What else was there?

Norman rubs his eyes and looked around the living room.

The house was as quiet as a tomb and it made him shutter. He got up and went to the master bedroom.

The bed was neatly made. He must have just missed Connie. Normally if he falls asleep on the couch she won't wake him; although she will fuss at him later for doing it. That wasn't something he was looking forward to but it was unavoidable.

He walked over to the phone and dialed her office number. After a moment her voice mail picked up. He thought about calling her cell phone but then remembered she had several appointments for that day and decided against it. He didn't want to bother her. Maybe he would call her at lunch time? Better yet he might surprise her and take her out to eat at lunch. Hopefully that might get him out of the dog house for the couch thing.

He got ready for his day. After his shower he decided to skip breakfast and headed out the door to his psychiatrist appointment.

Dr. Rosenblum has been Norman's psychiatrist since he made parole almost four years ago. He always hated the idea of having to talk to a 'head shrinker', as he called them, but that was how he met Connie. She was once his psychiatrist at the Institution. He had told her 'she would bring an end to a lot of tormented souls'. He meant every word.

It was love at first sight. From the moment he saw her he knew he would marry her. He had never felt that way about any woman before and for once Mother didn't disagree.

Norman was never very good at flirting. Not just because of Mother but because he always had a habit of getting straight to the point. He never thought it was necessary to dance around anything especially when it came to courting someone. He figured either a woman liked him or they didn't. Of course when he first met Connie he tried to flirt with her. That turned out rather disastrous. But he did make her laugh so he figured he at least had a shot. He had finally told her that he was not good at flirting and asked her to go on a date with him when he got out of the Institution. Amazingly she agreed. They have been inseparable ever since.

Norman drove up to his shrink's office. He got out of the car and started to walk in when a woman begins to exit the same building.

Norman was raised with manners so he politely held the door for her. She thanked him for his kindness as Norman began to walk inside. He glances up at the door and the reflection of a once gorgeous creature smiles at him.

It was Mother; although she looked much worse than when Norman remembered her. But that was the problem. The only time he could remember her is after she died. He could hardly remember her beautiful face. The only thing he ever saw now was the corpse.

He ignored the face in the glass and continued on up to his Doctor's office.

"Hey, Norman how is your day?"

"Oh…he—hey Teresa. It's good so far. No complaints."

"Good," Teresa picks up a phone and hits two buttons.

"Dr. Rosenblum Norman Bates is here. Dr. Rosenblum said for you to go on in."

"Tha—ank you Teresa," he says walking into the side room.

"Norman its good to see you," the Doctor says shaking Norman's hand, "…have a seat, have a seat."

"Th-an-anks," Norman says looking around nervously.

"Is anything wrong today, Norman? You look a little flustered."

Norman looks to his psychiatrist. He couldn't tell him about the vision. He couldn't say anything because if he did he knew he would be sent back to the Asylum. He would never go back that place. There was nothing in this world that could make him go back there. He would rather die; although they already tried to kill him. They already did decades of electroshock therapy on him. The only thing they took away from him was almost all of his good memories. He could barely remember what his mother looked like anymore, except, in his nightmares. He would tell the Doctor about his nightmares. That should be harmless enough.

"I'm ok. It's just the nightmares have been getting worse. I mean, I fell asleep on the couch again."

"I take it Connie is upset by that Norman?"

"Oh, I haven't talked to her yet today. She was already gone when I got up."

"And she didn't wake you up before she left?"

"No…she never do—oes. She's not being mean or anything like that…it's just that…when I do sleep, it's soundly."

"You don't hear things around you or startle easily?"

"Not in the least. Connie told me I once sleep through a bad thunderstorm. Lightning had even struck a tree outside the bedroom…split it right in half."

"And that didn't wake you?"

"No," He laughs, "I didn't even roll over."

"That is sleeping a little too deeply Norman. I'm not sure that's very healthy for you but at least you are sleeping now. Let's move on…so Norman, have you had to take any more of your anxiety pills?"

"Yes, but not as much as before. I've gotten it reduced to…to…to…three pills a week. Well, three pills if nothing too terribly bad happens."

"I don't want you to rely on those pills Norman. Have you been trying the breathing exercises we discussed?"

"I try them but then I feel like I may pass out."

"You're breathing too deeply Norman. You don't want to feel light-headed just relaxed."

Norman glanced down at the coffee table in the room. There were several magazines laid across it.

Should he tell the Doctor about the visions? He worried if he did the Doctor might put him back in the Asylum. If he didn't though, he might end up hurting people again. He didn't want to hurt people anymore but that was something that he really didn't have control over.

"Norman?"

He couldn't tell Dr. Rosenblum what was happening. He knew he would put him back in that retched place. He would commit suicide by police before he would ever go back.

"Norman? Are you ok?"

What happens if Mother is trying to come back though? Mother might come back and no one would be able to get rid of her. Norman would be lost forever.

"Norman?"

Norman jumps and looks up at Dr. Rosenblum.

"I'VE BEEN SEEING VISIONS!"

He'd done it now. His mouth ran away before he had a chance to screen what it was allowed to say. He'd go back to hell for sure now. He did it to himself this time too. Mother couldn't take credit for this one.

"What kind of visions Norman?"

Don't answer him! If you value your freedom you will keep your mouth shut! Don't you dare tell him…

"Mother."

Way to go Norman. Enjoy your last few minutes of freedom before the police are called. Hope you like Salisbury steak for the rest of your life because that's the only thing those nasty places serve.

"Relax Norman. I believe your medications are not working as we had hoped. There is another medication I will put you on and I believe it will have better results. It will take a couple of months for it to get completely in your system though."

What? Is that it? No police? No tasers? No orderly's wrestling him to the ground? Where is the media? Where is the victims families spitting on him? Where is the token fat, ugly nurse with the Haldol injection?

"Norman, you're going to be fine. This is nothing to really concern your self with. All we have to do is try the different medication and you will be ok. I do have to know though, why didn't you tell me about this sooner? How long has this been happening?"

Don't you tell him the truth! He will lock you up! You will never see the light of day ever again!

"Two months," Norman answers.

It's super dumb ass to the rescue! You deserve to get locked up. What an idiot!

"It's going to be alright Norman. I promise. You don't need to go back to the Asylum as this setback isn't entirely your fault. Your medications just need to be adjusted. I'll just put you on something stronger. I promise its ok."

Maybe you're not such a dumb ass after all? This Doc isn't like the ones from the Asylum. He actually might care about you?

"Wish I had known that sooner," Norman mutters.

"That's alright Norman, ok let's see here," Dr. Rosenblum says looking down at his notes, "We were talking about Connie at our last meeting. How did you meet Connie?"

Norman laughs loudly.

"She was one of my psychiatrists. There was a problem with one of the female patients at the institution and she was assigned to me as a liaison to determine if I guilty of what she was accusing me of."

"And were you?"

"NO. Definitely not! I didn't do that!"

"Calm down, Norman. Relax. Let's talk about something else ok? Tell me was it Connie's idea to keep her maiden name?"

"Oh, no. That was my idea. I didn't want her to be ridiculed because of me. We wanted to be a normal happy family and well, you can't really do that with all these people harassing you, can you?"

"No you can't. What about for Adam? Why didn't you allow him to have your last name? Why allow him to take only Connie's last name?"

"Can you imagine going to school and being known as 'that psycho Bates' kid'? I didn't want either one of them to go through that so I told Connie just to stick with Monroe."

"How did she feel about this?"

"Oh she argued at first. And at first she did take my last name but I begged her to have her named changed back…legally through the court. She understood where I was coming from and she knew how much it meant to me. So she agreed."

"I see," Dr Rosenblum wrote something down on the notepad, "Now, Norman, you had told me before that Connie's parents had passed away?"

"Yes, that's right. Connie's dad died in his sleep. He had been fighting a battle with Cancer. Her mother actually died a year after that…I think…I think from a heart attack? From what I was told they were never in the best of health."

"Did you ever meet her parents before they passed?"

"I met her mother for Christmas one year. She was a sweet lady. I really miss her too. She knew who I was before we met, I mean, who didn't because of the news, but when she met me she walked right up to me and hugged me. She treated me like one of the family. I'll never forget it. It meant a lot to me."

"Because she was treating you like you were normal?"

"…Exactly. She knew who I was and she didn't care because she really did understand that the past was the past."

"Tell me Norman, does Connie have any brother's or sisters?"

"No, she is an only child."

"What about aunts or uncles?"

"No. They have a pretty small family."

"Ok. Have you decided where you're going to go on vacation yet?"

"Connie wants to go to Florida…to the—uh—uh beach."

"Is that where you want to go?"

"Oh yes. I've always wanted to go to the beach. I've never been."

A timer on the desk started buzzing madly.

"Time up, doc?"

"Only for today Norman."

Dr. Rosenblum wrote a prescription out and handed it to Norman.

"The pharmacy normally has this in stock. You should have no problems getting it filled. If they have any questions, they can call me as usual. Have a great day Norman. I think we will meet again on next Monday."

"Monday? Oh that's right you're going on vacation."

"Now, Norman you know if you need me you can call my cell phone. Do you still have the number?"

"Yes I've got it. Thank you Dr. Rosenblum. See you next Monday."

Norman stood and shook Dr. Rosenblums hand. He walked out of the office and back out to his car. He drove over to the pharmacy and only had to wait thirty minutes to get the new prescription filled. Anything under an hour for this pharmacy was a miracle in itself.

After leaving the pharmacy Norman decided he would grab some lunch at the local diner. It was too late to surprise Connie and there was something about hole-in-the-wall diner's that appealed to him. Maybe it was the fact they always seemed to be friendlier in places like that? The food wasn't bad either.

Norman wasn't a newcomer to Spritz Diner. As a matter of fact the entire staff including the owner knew him by name. Although, they didn't know what he had done in his past.

He walked in and sat down as his usual table.

"Where ya been Norman?"

He looked up at the twenty year old blonde haired, blue eyed waitress. She was always flirting with him but he didn't mind, even though he was married and everyone knew that. It was just flirting and literally nothing more. Norman was very loyal to his wife and son.

"Hey, Debbie. I've been around just busy lately."

"Wife wouldn't let you out of the house huh?"

"Ha! No, no, she doesn't mind me coming up here. She just likes to tease me about it that's all."

"You should bring her in one day. I know we would all love to meet her."

"Maybe I will."

"So what are you hungry for? I bet I know…milk annnd…Salisbury steak?"

Norman glared up at her, "Very funny Deb. You know I ha-a-ate Salisbury steak."

Debbie laughed out loud, "I know, I was just picking on ya. How about the vegetable plate? It's got fried green tomatoes on it."

"That would be great thanks."

"Coming right up Norman," She says as she seemingly glides away.

A few moments pass by and suddenly a plate of food is set in front of him.

That was quick even for this place. Sometimes Norman wondered whether or not he wanted to know how the food was ready so quickly here. But then most times he was happy not knowing. He may never eat there again if he found out.

"Mind if I join you?"

Norman looks up at a woman standing in front of the table. He gives the woman a perplexed and then worried face.

"Just for lunch that's all. I promise."

"Sure," He replies, "Have a seat," He motions to the bench across from him.

The lady complies and sits down in front of him.

"You don't remember me do you?"

Norman's eyes got larger. He looks at the woman and swallows slowly.

"Your not…not…a-a-a- relative of someone that I…uh…I…uh…became too acquainted with are you?"

"No, Norman I'm not a relative of someone that had a run-in with you. We met a few years ago in Fairvale."

A waitress walks up to the table and smiled at the two of them.

"Can I get you anything Ma'me?"

"No I'm fine thank you."  
"Another glass of milk Mr. Monroe?"

"No, Debbie, I'm fine. I'll take the check though."

"I'll be right back Mr. Monroe."

The woman raises an eyebrow to Norman.

"Mr. Monroe?" She asks.

"Yes. I don't use Bates anymore. That name died with that personality."

"Where did you come up with Monroe?"

"It's my wife's last name."

The woman's expression quickly went from casual to very, very, shocked. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She couldn't think of anything to say. She finally did blurt out exactly what she was thinking though.

"You're married?"

"Yes."  
"For how long?"

"I don't mean to be rude or answer a question with a question, but who are you? I mean, I am enjoying the conversation but I have no idea who you are."

"Tracy Venable."

He thought for a moment. The name rang a bell but he couldn't think exactly from where. This woman knew who he was. Granted that wasn't very difficult given his reputation but most people only know his name and not his face. But she knew who he was and they weren't even in Fairvale. It finally dawned on him.

"The reporter?" He asks.

"Used to be. I quit that job right after the…well…incident with you."

"I tried to kill you."

He stated it as though he were doing nothing more than asking for directions to the park. He had a no-never-mind attitude that the conversation was as casual as any other.

Tracy was taken aback. She placed her hand over her chest completely surprised by Norman's lack of emotion.

"Yes, as a matter of fact you did," She finally says.

"Oh, don't…don't misunderstand me. I was just trying my best to remember. My memory isn't very good and most things are blocked out. I didn't mean to sound so crass and uncaring."

She looked into his eyes. He was telling her the truth. He really didn't remember what happened. Was this something that she wanted to remind him of?

The waitress came by with the check and dropped it on the table. Norman picked it up, glanced at it and then dug into his pocket for some money. He placed the money on the edge of the table.

"So tell me Tracy, what do you do now?"

Well that was certainly an easy out. If he wasn't going to talk about what happened then neither was she.

"I write a column for a small newspaper. Kind of like an advise column if you will."

"Really? What is it called?"

"Ask Vena."

Norman laughs a bit.

"Interesting. Do you remember a letter from 'Disgruntled Neighbor'?"

"No, I…wait…yes, yes I remember that one. This man was having trouble with his neighbor spying on him all the time. The neighbor blatantly even put video cameras in his bedroom widows facing Disgruntles house. Disgruntled Neighbor couldn't get the guy to leave him alone even after pleading and being nice and everything. I told him to invite his neighbor over for dinner and talk to him face to face. I don't know what happened after that though."

"I told him I used to be a serial killer at dinner. He got scared and moved away. But at least he finally left me alone."

Tracy's mouth gapped open.

"Norman…were you…"

"…Disgruntled Neighbor, yes," He smiles.

Tracy stated laughing hysterically.

"Don't laugh too hard. I ended up sleeping in the car for three days because of that little stunt."

"Your wife made you sleep in the car?"

"She said the couch was too good for me. I understand why she got so upset and I did purposely frighten that man, but I had tried everything to get him to stop all that nonsense spying. He even called the police on me…quite a few times actually. But the last time he did it I was digging a drainage trench in my own yard. I guess maybe he thought I was going to bury a body or something."

"That is unbelievable."

"Yes, but you see, I took your advice. And I guess, in a way, it worked."

"Norman I didn't tell you to scare the man half to death. I just said to have dinner with him and talk."

"Well, I did have dinner with him and we definitely talked. But it's ok now regardless. He doesn't bother me anymore and everyone else in the neighborhood leaves me alone."

"I guess that's what you wanted. So tell me, how have you been? I assume you're completely…healed?"

"Not completely. But my Doctor did just start me on a new medication that he's sure will get me fixed up in no time."

"You seem to be in good spirits. All smiles and don't seem to be hearing things that most others miss."

"If you're trying to find out if I still hear my Mother I don't. She is very dead."

Another lie. Well not a complete lie. He didn't hear her. He saw her and had conversations with her and that was different.

It's a good thing Norman wasn't very religious. If he were he would surely be going to hell for all these lies coming from his lips lately. Of course he had already broken six of the Ten Commandments. His record wasn't exactly in the best of states.

"That's good to hear Norman. It really is. I'm happy for you," Tracy says gently touching his arm, "I mean that."

"Thank you," He smiles, "I better get going though. I'm cooking tonight and I still have to go to the grocery store."

"Cooking?" Tracy asks playfully, "What are you cooking?"

"Pot roast."

Tracy gasped. Did he just say 'pot roast'? Norman Bates knows how to cook pot roast? Norman Bates knows how to cook?

Tracy's perception of Norman was slowly starting to change…for the better. He was really trying this time. And it showed.

Norman stood up and offered his hand to Tracy. She took it and stood up herself.

"Good to see you Norman. We should do this again sometime."

He smiled a genuine smile,

"Yes we should," He says.

He walked out the door after waving 'goodbye' to the staff and went to his car.

Hopefully the grocery store wouldn't take that long. He hoped it wouldn't he was almost ready for a nap.

He arrived at the store and after an hour he finally headed home.

Norman walks into the house. He didn't see Connie's car in the garage. She's probably working late again. That's always been a common occurrence but Norman didn't mind it, he actually jokes with her about it claiming he needs to make an appointment with her for some quality time.

He put the groceries away and walks over to the radio and cuts it on out of habit.

Walking over to the mail on the counter he begins to flip through it. It was pretty rare when he had mail but when he did it was always legitimate. He didn't have to worry about credit card offers and junk like that. Is this the mail from yesterday? Connie must have been running late this morning. Normally she would have already gone through the mail.

"…Interstate Five tragic accident…"

Norman's ears perked up. He walks over to the radio and turns it up.

"…the names of the victims are now being released. Thirty people lost their lives yesterday in a twenty car pill up off Interstate five. This tragic accident is the result of a tracker-trailer tanker truck jack knifing after a car cut off the driver…the interstate was closed for…"

Norman moves into the living room and turns on the TV. He flips the channel to the news. It was two minutes after five so he should catch it just in time.

"…to recount a top story from yesterday, the twenty car pile up that claimed thirty victims from yesterday evening was from the result in a careless driver that cut off a Tanker Truck hauling gasoline. The tanker jackknifed and was then struck by several cars. It then erupted into a explosion that claimed the lives of the surrounding commuters. Our hearts go out to the families of these victims."

Norman watches the bottom of the television screen at the scrolling names.

"…James & Janet Fotell… Cassandra Davis…Jeff & Berry Taylor…Zachary Thompson…Connie Monroe…Sarah Aldridge…Craig Smith…"

His heart jumped into his throat. Was that Connie? Was that 'his' Connie? It can't be! It can't be she's at work!

He jumped up from the couch and ran over to the phone. He dialed Connie's office. It rang and rang but finally someone answers.

"Dr. Monroe's answering service…Dr. Monroe is not available if this is an emergency please dial her stand in Dr. Price's cell number…"

"This is Connie's husband…where is Connie? She isn't home yet!"

"Mr…Mr. Monroe! Pa..pa…please hold the line."

Norman's pulse was picking up by the second. He could feel the sweat pouring over him. Panic was overwhelming him.

"Mr. Monroe?" A man's voice said.

"Ye…yes. Where is Connie? I haven't seen her all day."

"Mr. Monroe I'm sorry to have to tell you this but Connie was…Connie was…Connie was involved in a car accident yesterday. Norman…she…she didn't make. She passed away at Saint Petersburgh Hospital early this morning. We received the phone call this afternoon."

Everything around him stopped. The TV froze in place. The dust particles in the air hung there suspended. The clock on the wall's second hand ceased to move; his heart ripped in half.

Norman woke up, "Where is my son? Where is Adam? He was with her!"

If more of the story is wanted; review and I will continue to write.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sharon? Do you know where I put my travel razor?" David calls out.

"You already packed it!" Sharon responds walking into the bedroom, "I swear David, I don't see how you keep up with all your patients if you can't even keep up with yourself."

"Very funny Mrs. Rosenblum," He says pulling her close to him, "That's why I have you."

"Oh it is, is it? Lucky you."

He leans in to kiss her when his cell phone rings.

"Never fails," She says glancing down on the nightstand.

David looks down at the caller ID on the phone,

BATES, NORMAN

"Sharon I have to take this. Norman doesn't call my cell," He says releasing her.

"No, that's fine, I know he doesn't."

David smiles at his wife and answers the phone,

"Norman? Is that you?"

"SHE'S DEAD! DR. ROSENBLUM SHE'S DEAD!"

Sharon became just as alarmed as her husband from the screams coming from the man on the other end of the phone.

"The—the—accident on the interstate. Connie and Adam were…"

David Rosenblum heard the phone fall to the floor with a clatter. The next thing he heard alarmed him and his wife more than anything else in the world.

Silence. Norman wasn't screaming or crying. He wasn't making a sound other than breathing.

David covered the receiver of the phone and looks at Sharon,

"Call 9-1-1 now!" He whispers, "Get the police and an ambulance over to Norman's house. His address is in my day-planner. If they want to know what the nature is, it's a welfare check. His wife and son were killed in the interstate wreck yesterday and he just found out. Give them a brief history about Norman."

Sharon covers her mouth with her hand; she then runs to get the planner. After a moment she found Norman's address and dials 9-1-1.

"Yes, this is Dr. Sharon Rosenblum. I need an ambulance and the police sent to one of my husband's, Dr. David Rosenblum,'s patient's house. Norman Bates is the patients name…well; it's for a welfare check. Yes…yes…it's _that_ Norman Bates. He just found out that his wife was killed in the accident yesterday…yes, the address is 1550 Hillside Way…yes that's correct…ok thank you."

"NORMAN!" David yells into the phone, "NORMAN! PICK UP THE PHONE LET ME KNOW YOU'RE OK!"

David watches Sharon return to the bedroom and quietly sit on the bed.

"I can't stay here. I have to move," A softly whisper says from the phone.

David sighs relieved,

"Norman that is your choice. Where would you move to?"

"Back to Fairvale."

"If you want to move to Fairvale, I will help you set everything up."

"I have to go. I don't want to stay here. There's nothing left for me here."

"I understand Norman. Where would you live?"

"Back at my Mother's old house."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather live in another house…still in Fairvale, just another house?"

"No. I have to go back to Mother's old house. That's the only place for me."

"Alright Norman I can begin your transfer paperwork. Norman do you need me to come over?"

A long deafening silence replied to Dr. Rosenblum. Finally Norman answered him.

"No. I'll be fine. The police are here now…I'll be fine."

"Norman will you really be ok? I can come over if you need me to."

"No. I—I'm ok. Really."

"Norman…"

"I have to go. The police are at the door. Thank you, . I will call you back when they leave."

"Ok Norman."

David heard a dial tone in his ear and hung up.

"That poor man. Hasn't he been through enough?"

"I know, I know. He said he would call me back when the police left."

"Do you think he will?"

"He will. Norman is a man of his word."

"I just can't imagine what he's going through."

"He said he didn't want me to come over but…I just don't know Sharon…"

Sharon stood up and held her husband in her arms.

"I don't care what he said. Norman Bates or not, he's a human being that's in a lot of pain. He needs someone right now."

David studies Sharon for a brief moment. He kisses her on the forehead and let go of her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know. Be safe."

David smiles and walks out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. He grabs his keys off the counter and heads out the door.

"Mr. Bates I'm just going to check your blood pressure," An EMT says.

Norman held his arm out and blankly stared into space. He could hear everything going on around him. He heard the doorbell. He heard the police answer the door and talk to someone. He heard someone walk into the house.

"…110 over 60 Mr. Bates. Your blood pressure is better than mine," The EMT states.

He glanced up at the EMT with nothing but apathy. He was beyond copasetic at this point. Not only did he not care, he didn't feel anything either.

He felt nothing. He wasn't sad, he wasn't mad, he wasn't happy. He felt nothing.

Norman saw Dr. Rosenblum sit down next to him. He saw the police talking to the Doctor. He saw the paramedic talking to the police.

"Mr. Bates? Do you want to go to the hospital?" The EMT asks.

Norman looks back up at the EMT.

Go to the hospital? What the hell good would that do? You can be just as miserable here as you can there. But that was the problem. You aren't miserable. You aren't anything.

Norman finally shook his head no.

"Alright Mr. Bates we need you to sign a refusal form here," The EMT says, "Now all this is, is a form stating that you refused to go with us to the hospital. It's not a bill of any kind. If you do require further treatment you can call us back out here or you can take yourself to the hospital. Do you understand sir?"

Norman shook his head yes and signed the form.

"Thank you Mr. Bates…if you do need us then don't wait a minute to call."

Norman sat on the couch staring into space. He saw Dr. Rosenblum walk everyone to the door. He saw them leave but not before they all stared at him.

Who cares? Who cares what they think? Who cares about anything?

Norman didn't.

Dr. Rosenblum sat back down on the couch next to Norman. He sat quietly for a moment thinking desperately about what he could possible say to him in this situation. Finally he said the only thing he could,

"Norman are you going to attend the funerals?"

Norman suddenly came back a little.

"No. I can't…I just can't do that."

"No one will force you to go Norman. Listen, we can start the moving process rather quickly but I need you to notify the police department you will be moving back into town."

"Ok. Do you think I'll make it?"

David was stunned from the question. He had never in his entire career had a patient ask him that. 'Would he make it?' He looks at Norman intently while picking the right words.

"Believe it or not Norman, there are a lot of people pulling for you. Not just me and Sharon either. There are more people that care about you, then you realize. I know that doesn't mean much to you now but in time, it will. So I say to you with complete confidence, that yes…you will most certainly make it."

Norman lowered his eyes to the floor and stared at nothingness. He felt nothing at that moment and didn't know if it would ever leave.

"I don't even have hope anymore," He finally says, "Hope died yesterday. How long does it last?"

"How long does what last Norman?"

"Feeling nothing."

"For some people it's a perfectly normal reaction. You will come back…your emotions, your feelings…just give it time."

"Time, is all I have left."

"Norman, do you feel as though you may…hurt yourself?"

Norman looks back up at Dr. Rosenblum.

"Why bother," He says, "It wouldn't fix anything. I'm not in that big of a hurry to suffer eternally either."

David raises his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He understood what Norman meant but he really didn't have anything he could say to him. The good news was that Norman would not hurt himself. That much was obvious.

Dr. Rosenblum stood up from the couch.

"I'm going to go. If you need me for anything you can call my cell at anytime."

Norman stood up and walked Dr. Rosenblum to the door.

After David left Norman went into the living room and lay down on the couch. He would call the Sheriff tomorrow morning.

All he could see over and over again was Connie and Adam in the car as it burst into flames. He could see Adam screaming and trying to get out of his car seat…but even these images never brought a tear to his eyes. He still felt nothing.

Time dragged by slower than ever. Norman tossed and turned but that was nothing unsual for him. He couldn't help thinking that when he got up Connie and Adam would be there. But they weren't.

Norman finally opened his eyes and gave up on any sleep around seven in the morning. He knew nothing had changed…if it had Adam would have woken him up at six to play hide-n-seek. He would never again get to play Adam's favorite game with him. He would never again see the sun dance off of Connie's brown hair. He would never again know what it feels like to be loved. His Mother never loved him. She put up with him…her own words to him.

He got off the couch around seven-thirty and made his way to the phone.

He already knew the phone number so at least he didn't have to hunt for it among everything else going on.

A deep sigh came from his chest. He didn't want to talk to them. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He felt like everything was a dream. None of this nightmare could be real; maybe Connie was just playing a horrible joke on him and she's hiding in the garage?

He knew better. He also knew that no matter how hard he tried to wake up…he was already awake.

Reluctantly he picked up the phone and dialed the Sheriff's office in Fairvale.

"Kern County Sheriff's Office."

"Yes, may I please speak with the sheriff?"

"May I ask what this pertains to Sir?"

"Oh cer-er-tainly. As part of my parole I have to notify the locale police-police-police department that I will be moving back into town."

"Certainly Sir, hold for one second for me."

The line was hushed. There wasn't even hold music to listen to. The unbearable stillness could be conceived as deafening to the nervous man. He waited patiently and went over in his head what he was going to say but no matter how many times he practiced he knew he would never be ready until the moment came. After a few minutes pass by the sheriff gets on the phone.

"This is Sheriff Hunt here. How can I help you?"

"Hello Sheriff, I thought you would have retired by now."

Sheriff John Hunt held his breathe. He knew that voice. That voice that could send chills up even the meanest, nastiest and hardest criminal's spine. Surely to God he was imagining that voice. But he knew he wasn't.

The Sheriff has been waiting for the moment he knew would come. He knew this day would happen but no matter how many times he thought he would have avoided it, the day was finally here.

"Norman Bates. How have you been Norman its great to hear from you. I heard you made parole bout six years ago. Is that right?"

"Oh that's right. As part of my parole I have to inform you that I will be moving back to Fairvale."

Normally things didn't shake John but Norman Bates was no where near normal. A long silence followed.

What could you say to a man that was arrested twice for murdering several people? What could you say to a man that spent over twenty years in an insane asylum for split personality disorder? What could you say to a man that thought he _was_ his own Mother?

John took a deep breath before he continues.

"Alright Norman. When are you coming back and what are the stipulations of your parole?"

"I should be back in a few days. I'll be moving back into mother's old house, that is, if it's still standing. I have to do a-a-a- blood test…once a month, to prove I am taking the medication I'm suppose to be on."

"Ok then. Tell you what, when you get into town come on by and we'll meet at my office and take a look at your papers."

"Thanks sheriff. I appreciate it."

"No problem, see you in a few days Norman, you take care now."

Sheriff Hunt hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. Norman Bates was moving back to Fairvale. Norman Bates was coming home.

The Sheriff picked up the phone and made a few quick phone calls to get some updates about Norman. He spent the greater number of thirty minutes on the phone with Jack West, Norman's current parole officer. From what Jack told him it sounded like Norman had made a full recovery back into society. At least he hoped that was the case.

The Sheriff sat for a few more minutes waiting on a fax from Jack. When it finally came through he made some notes, grabs the fax and walks into the main office area with the other officers.

"Jamie is everyone here right now?"

"Yes Sheriff."

"Good," He says. Holding up his arms he exclaims, "I need everyone's attention. Hey everyone please settle down and take a seat."

"John you look like you've just seen a ghost."

"No, I didn't see a ghost, but I did just talk to one a minute ago."

The perplexed looks went hand in hand with the commentary. Everyone there including the secretaries exchanged the same glimpse to one another.

"What's up John?" Deputy Tate asks.

"I just got off the phone with Norman Bates."

The gasps throughout the room were all in unison. The baffled expressions turned to revulsion as one by one the famous name rang more than just a bell.

"Norman tells me," Sheriff Hunt continues, "that he will be moving back to Fairvale. He'll be here in a few days. He claims as part of his parole he had to notify me and he also has some other stipulations for his parole."

"We can't let that crazy freak move back here! People start dying when he comes around!"

"Vera, hold your tongue. Norman Bates has been on his best behavior since he moved away. According to his parole officer in Los Angeles, Jack West, he has been outstanding citizen, he is never late for his appointments and he has never missed an appointment either.

"He was an outstanding citizen before too when he wasn't stabbing people," Vera retorts.

"Listen here now, that boy has not once complained about anything, even after they searched his house AND his property because a neighbor claimed he saw Norman digging up the backyard. Or should I say, he saw Norman digging up his own back yard. As that turned out he was putting in a pipeline for a drainage system.

He does everything that has ever been asked of him and Jack West claims he wishes all of his parolees were like Norman. Jack even said I could quote him so I will."

Sheriff brought out his glasses and pulled the fax paper out of his pocket. He opened it carefully and then he read out loud,

"_I have loved being Norman's parole officer. Norman has an amazing sense of humor but he has to get to trust someone before they will see it. I would suggest for his new parole officer to work hand in hand with his psychiatrist. The state of California actually recommends this as the state also recognizes that Norman is a special case, but it is not a requirement of his parole. _

_Norman does still have trust issues but we were working to get past this. I will suggest for him to get familiar with many of the officers in the new department as this will help him re-associate himself in the community. I will hope that your department will extend this courtesy to him._

_Norman's treatment; normally the state facilities do not discuss treatment for their patients but in Norman's case this is different. Norman is required to take anti-psychotic medications. The paperwork he will bring will describe the blood work requirements that follow the medications. _

_It is recommended that Norman be observed frequently when he relocates to Fairvale. Once he has reestablished himself the observations can be reduced to normal parole visitations. _

_Norman has suffered a seriously devastating tragedy in his life and I as well as his psychiatrist, Dr. David Rosenblum believe that he will have a better chance at getting past this setback in a community he feels safe in. That community is Fairvale. _

_On a side note: he has never been in trouble while under my supervision. Norman has however helped me out when I needed it. I had an incident with another parolee at one point before Norman's appointment. As usual Norman was early. My door was open to my office and the conversation got a little heated. Norman stuck his head in the door just as I was about to call security into the office. I will never forget what happened next as long as I live. When Norman walked into my office my parolee was becoming belligerent. Norman walked in front of my desk in between me and the man I was having trouble with. He politely asked the man what his intentions were. The man's only response was acting like he was going to strike Norman. Norman, for the record, didn't even flinch. Norman did however, tell him, and I quote, 'there's nothing you can do to upset me. I lived with a sexually and physically abusive, schizophrenic, manic depressant, overbearing tyrant that claimed her self to be my mother. You can guess what my childhood was like. I eventually got fed up with her and her boyfriend, so I poisoned them both when I was twelve. My mother was the Anti-Christ. Do you honestly believe that you can frighten me?' The man stood wide eyed for a minute. He then apologized to me, apologized to Norman, told me he would fulfill the requirements and left without further incident. I have never had a problem with him since. I will be sad to see Norman go and we will all miss him around here. _

_Please send my best to Norman when he arrives and tell him to keep in touch with me. He owes me a Thanksgiving Dinner._

_Jack West_

_By the way if you want a good laugh ask Norman about the Christmas tree incident. This will always be a good memory for him. _

The Sheriff put the paper back in his pocket and took his glasses off.

"For those of you that are in the dark ages and don't own a TV and don't read the news paper, Norman Bates was a serial killer. He killed his mother and her boyfriend like he said when he was twelve years old and that's just where it starts. He was declared not guilty by reason of insanity and spent twenty-two years in a psych ward. After that he got out and came back here. He went back to his old tricks after a couple of the victims family members drove him back to insanity. After that he went back to another psych ward where he got paroled after a few years. He got married to his psychiatrist and moved out to Los Angeles. Now I don't know why but he's moving back here to Fairvale. I'm sure we will all, and I mean all, make him feel welcome."

"Sheriff, did you just say 'he married his psychiatrist'?"

"Sure did. It seems that ol' Norman fell in love while at the last institution. He got his act together and got the courage up to ask this nice young woman out. She agreed to go out with him when he was fully recovered and released. There couldn't have been a better incentive for him so he worked real hard and made serious progress with his treatment in a very short amount of time. From what I was told they have been happily married for four years now and he even has a three year old son."

"Norman Bates has a son?"

"That's right. Norman was even against that at first. He didn't want any children and he came real close to a relapse. He didn't do anything though because his wife was able to talk him down. He did however set fire to his house. He said he wanted to 'get rid of the demons that were in it.'"

"Why John? I mean why did he do all that? Why didn't he want kids either?"

"He set fire to his house because all of his problems started there and he hoped that when it went up in flames so would his past. As far as having children goes, Norman was worried that the world would have another one of 'him' to deal with. He was worried that his son would be disturbed like he was…but no he isn't; perfectly normal and adorable too according to Jack. He says Norman is an ideal father and every time he sees them together both of them are all smiles. Hell, Jack says the little tike even has Norman's smile."

"John is this really a good idea?"

"I don't know. But from what Jack told me we just have to act like everything's fine and treat him like you would anyone else."

"But he's not anyone else. He's Norman Bates!"

"Vera, just give him a chance. That's all I ask from anyone. Give…him…a…chance."

The office was quiet for a moment.

"I believe we should," Deputy Tate says, "Give him a chance I mean. Something bad obviously happened to him and Fairvale is the only place he feels comfortable in. It seems to me that he's trying not to have a relapse and that's _why_ he's moving back. If Norman can have enough sense to do this…to…to want to be normal…then…why can't we let him?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Sheriff Hunt says.

"Ok…fine. But the first time I see him even remotely near any cutlery with a gleam in his eyes, don't think I won't throw him back in an asylum myself!"

"That's fine Vera. Just don't go looking for trouble. That goes for all of you," Sheriff Hunt declares.

"Alright I guess we're all agreed then. Some more reluctantly than others…" Deputy Tate says looking at Vera.

"I just hope we know what the hell we're doing..." Vera mumbles.


	4. Chapter 4

Norman pulls his car up to the motel off Highway 113.

It was still dark outside. He had left his house in Los Angeles around nine-o-clock the previous night and after driving all night he finally got back to Fairvale at one in the morning. He would have gotten there sooner but he kept stopping at gas stations. He didn't have to stop, it wasn't necessary but he just did. He really didn't want to arrive at Fairvale in reality but he didn't have anywhere else to go.

The full moon made the house on the hill and the motel look haunted. In some ways it was. Haunted memories just never seem to really go away.

He had already thought to call and had the water and power cut back on. The power company didn't believe it was him calling. The receptionist even called him a liar and said that Norman Bates was dead. He had told her 'only on the inside'. She finally believed him and they turned the power back on two days ago.

The house had certainly changed. Maybe it was because of the bad memories from it. But it certainly looked different. Aside from the fire damage it looked more than just vacant. It looked dreary, hopeless, and desolate, like Norman him self was.

All of his problems center from that house. But he didn't have a choice but to move back. He couldn't bear to stay at that other house another minute. Everything there reminded him of Connie and Adam. He was worried that if he did try to stay there he might have a relapse and go back to his old ways. He didn't want to move back to his mother's house either because he was afraid that everything would start over again. But he would still rather be back in Fairvale. At least there he knew people so he wouldn't be completely alone. If he had stayed in Los Angeles the only person that would have anything to do with him was his elderly neighbor. Fairvale won the coin toss. Even if they hated him they still talked to him and that was better than being alone.

The chain of events that occurred after Connie's death was bizarre even for Norman, and very quick. It was out of the ordinary, at least to Norman, that Connie had made sure he would be ok if she died. She had thought that far in advance. He had no idea she had a million dollar life insurance policy and he certainly didn't know she had left everything to him and Adam. Well…now everything went to him. That's probably what hurt him the most though…even in death she looked out for him.

Norman grabs his suitcase and went over to the office of the motel. He unlocks the door and steps inside. A quick flick of the lights is when he finally notices the broken windows and graffiti inside the room. Vandals had come by and voiced their opinion of him on the wall.

'Bastard' was largely spray-painted in red on all four of the office walls.

The office windows had all been busted and glass and dirt covered the floor. There were leaves on the front desk and spider webs pretty much covered everything else.

He went behind the counter into the parlor and turned on the light.

At first the room seemed to look fine but when he got a better look at the walls he saw a sticky substance that coated one of them. He was positive he didn't want to know what the substance was either. The windows were all broken in here too and there was red paint covering the entire bathroom, including the ceiling. He decided he would have to start cleaning in the morning after visiting with the Sheriff.

He cut the lights out and left the office but not before grabbing the Master Key to the rooms. One by one he went through the rooms and realized that all of them were not very favorable for sleeping in. Some of them had tree branches in the beds and colorful words painted on the walls. There was one room that even had a blow-up doll in it dressed up to resemble his mother. It even had the wig on it. Norman knew for a fact he didn't want to know what the vandals used the doll for. A shutter came over him as a visual of a masked man and the doll entered his mind.

He closed the last cabin door he finally decided to sleep in his car.

At eight-o-clock he woke up and drove straight over to the Sheriff's Office. He was going to take a shower first but after remembering seeing the condition of the office bathroom he thought he would be worse off than before he got in the shower.

He pulled up to the Sheriff's Office just after eight-twenty. A long sigh tightened from his lips as he sat in his car staring at the front door. He wanted to get out right then and walk right inside. He didn't though. Instead he sat in his car day dreaming about what might happen if he did walk in.

Would they gawk at him? Would they instantly try to arrest him? Would the Sheriff be upset with him for moving back? It's not like he could walk right in and ask how the Pumpkin Festival went last year. Lord knows what they would say to him…or what they would do to him.

He pictured in his mind all of the officers jumping him and tasing him over and over. The last time he had a run in with the police was at the Asylum. One of the cops kept accidentally, or so he says, slamming Norman's head into the ground.

Norman reaches up and rubs a scar across his forehead.

Would that happen again?

He didn't have any answers to his questions but he knew he never would if he didn't get out of the car. Hopefully everyone would let bygones be bygones.

Norman reluctantly got out of his car and walked up to the door. He hesitated a moment but finally opened the door and walked inside.

"Vera, do you know what happened to that field report from the Cooper's chicken house episode?"

"I think its on Deputy Tate's desk Sheriff."

The bell on the front door dings. Sheriff Hunt turns and glances over at the door. His mouth instantly drops open a bit. He quickly regains his composer though and walks from behind the front desk.

"Norman Bates," he says with an outstretched hand, "It's good to see you again,"

Norman shook the Sheriff's hand but not before surveying the expressions of everyone in the office. All of them were the same to one degree or another; deer-in-headlights.

"…you-you-you too Sheriff."

"Did you bring your paperwork with you Norman?"

"I've got it right here Sheriff."

"Ok…oh…before I forget, I'm supposed to tell you that Jack West says 'hello'."

"Ha," Norman's face lit up, "Well tell him I said 'hello' back the next time you talk to him."

"I sure will. He wants to make sure you keep in contact with him. He claims you owe him a Thanksgiving Dinner?"

Norman smiles and shakes his head.

"Well he is right. I do owe him a Thanksgiving Dinner. Do you have his number handy? I think I lost it in the move."

"I've got it in my office. I'll give it to you before you leave."

"Th—h—hanks, Sheriff."

"No problem Norman. Oh yeah, he wanted me to ask you about 'the Christmas Tree incident'?"

Norman's eyes widened and he erupted into laughter covering his mouth with his hand. He went into a giggling fit unable to contain himself.

"Norman? You ok?" Sheriff Hunt asks smiling a bit too.

Norman nodded his head and then finally regained composer. He shook his head and with a big grin on his face he retold the famous story for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

"When Connie and I first got married we went to her Mother's house for Christmas that year. Her mother insisted on having a live Christmas tree and sent me and the neighbor, Bill out to get it. Before we even left the house the jokes started up, 'you're sending me out in the middle of the woods, miles from anyone, with only your neighbor and an axe? I asked her. She merely nodded and told me, 'if Bill ties you to a tree I don't want to hear it. We'll come-come-come looking for you in an hour,'" he giggles.

The Sheriff and every other personal in the office begin to chortle.

"Well, Bill and I went-went-went out and found the tree, cut it do-o-own and drug it back to the house. We all set it up and-and decorated it. Connie's mother asked me to put the lights on it. Well that went smoothly until I-I-I went to fix the plug in the center of the tree. We all found out that the trr-e-ee had a resident.

A squirrel came barreling out of-of-of the tree and went down my shirt. He ran around inside my shirt with me, Connie's mom and Bill trying to catch him with no-no-no luck. Then the squirrel decided to go "so-o-uth" into my pants.

It was at this point Bill was-was nice enough to remind me, what squirrels eat…"

Norman paused and shook his head laughing. The Sheriff's office was in a laughing uproar. Sheriff Hunt had tears coming from his eyes.

"…after I stopped screaming, and the squirrel stopped playing ring-around-the-Norman, the little rascal ran out of my shirt on-on my head where he perched," Norman gestures to his head, "Connie said he was King of the Mountain and he won that round. When we all settled down and stopped laughing the squirrel didn't move but stayed either on my head or my shoulder and every time someone tried to get him he would run again.

"What happened to the squirrel?" Vera asks laughing.

"I named him Jake," Norman shrugs, "He became a family pet if you can believe it. He finally died a year and a half later."

The entire office was in fits of laughter. When the phone rang Jamie could harder answer it she was laughing so hard.

Sheriff Hunt started walking into his office and motioned for Norman to follow him.

"Ok Norman," the Sheriff continues to chuckle as they sit down, "let's take a look at that paper work. Uh…ok, it says here no firearms…"

"Oh that's-that's ok. I never liked guns anyway. They scare me."

Sheriff Hunt stops laughing and looks up at Norman bewildered by his statement. Then it dawns on him that Norman always used a knife on his victims; although it was still an anomalous thing to say. The Sheriff simply shook his head and continued.

"…alright. According to this you also have to submit to a blood test once a month for checking toxic levels of your medications. You are not allowed to have alcohol in your system at any time. You have to submit to a urine test every other week for verification of medications being taken. You have to submit to random drug testing. You have to visit a psychiatrist once a week for therapy sessions. It is mandatory you submit to having your property and person searched if any probation violations are deemed plausible or if the county or state decides this randomly. You have to visit your probation officer once a month and you are not allowed to associate with any person's or businesses that have been convicted of a crime or unlawful acts. As far as the blood and urine tests goes you can go to the local Doctor's office for those and for the probation officer you can report here. Your new psychiatrist will be Dr. Fords from West Ridge. Well, that's about it. Do you understand what they want you to do Norman?"

"Oh yes. Un-unlike you Sheriff, this is a typical routine for me. I'm used to it now," he laughs with a half cocked smile.

"Say, Norman, was that story about the squirrel true? Did that really happen?" the Sheriff asks putting down the paperwork.

"It sure did. Ja-Ja- Jake went everywhere with me. He sat up on my shoulder," he points to his left shoulder.

"You know something Norman, that's the funniest thing I've ever heard. I can see that little thing running circles around you too," Sheriff Hunt snorts.

"Yes, that was a good day," He smiles back.

The Sheriff grabs a business card and hands it to Norman, "This is Jack West's number."

"Th—hanks."

The two men got up and left the office. The laughter had not yet died down in the main office and when Norman walked back into the room everyone started back up again.

"See you later Norman. I'll be by probably later on today. Your first official probation date is in exactly one week so try to get settled."

"O-o-ok Sheriff. See you then," his smile lit up his whole face.

When he left the building Vera turns to the Sheriff,

"That's not the Norman Bates I remember."

"…me either, Vera. But I can tell you one thing, I like this one a lot more."

Norman gets in his car and drives over to the grocery store. He grabs a few necessary items and then pauses at the candy isle. He just couldn't help him self but he had to get his favorite treat.

After getting home he unloads the groceries and begins to look over the motel to see where he needs to start the cleanup.

He decided to start in the bathroom of the parlor. Being that someone was nice enough to redecorate and he didn't really like the color red all that much he felt the best thing to do was grab the mop and go.

He adorned some old cloths and got right to work.

Luckily the paint was water based so the cleanup wasn't all that bad; although it looked like a river of scarlet from the gobs of water and paint.

The vandals must have used six gallons of paint in the bathroom alone. The walls took four hours by themselves to clean. Thank goodness for tile. Now the only thing left was the floor.

Lord, look at the floor. Even Norman thought it looked like he was back to his old ways. But he didn't complain and started in the far corner.

Everything was going great until the mob bucket slid over. When he tried to retrieve it he lost his footing and fell on the cold, wet, red floor. However, when he finally managed to get back up, after slipping several times, there was a spot on the floor that was no longer painted or wet.

Norman looked down and saw a perfect silhouette outline of where he had been on the floor. Upon examine his self he looked like he had leaned up against a freshly painted wall... and then rolled across it. His hands, side, chest and part of his face were now coated in the red mess.

He couldn't help but laugh at himself. He was certainly a sight to behold.

Sheriff Hunt pulls up to the motel off Highway 113. The last time he was here he arrested Norman for murdering Ms. Spool among other people. Let's hope nothing like that happens today.

The Sheriff approached the wide open office door. He strolls inside and walks into the parlor.

Right as the Sheriff entered the parlor Norman lost his footing in the bathroom again. He fell hard with a thud kicking the mop bucket as he landed. He groaned a little when he hit the ground that time. He was sure he would have a bruised hip after that one.

The mop bucket, mop and Norman all went in different directions. The mop bucket fell over spewing its contents onto the parlor floor and Norman. Norman fell sideways on his hip half in half out of the bathroom and the mop flew out of the bathroom and landed in front of Sheriff Hunt on the floor.

Sheriff Hunt looks at Norman with panic in his eyes. It looks like Norman is covered in blood. But he couldn't have hurt anyone this soon could he? The Sheriff realized he needed to calm down and give this situation a looking over before he jumped to conclusions.

"Norman, what in tarnation are you doing?" the Sheriff asks with as much as a fake grin as he could muster.

Norman looks up from the floor at the Sheriff. He realizes his own surroundings quickly and explains to the Sheriff.

"It's no-ooo-t what you think, its-its paint. Honest!"

"Now, Norman just calm down a minute. You look like dea…you look terrible. Say, you hit the ground kinda hard, you ok there?"

Norman had already assessed himself before the Sheriff had asked. His whole leg was throbbing terrible but he didn't want to say anything to the Sheriff. How would that look to be his first day back in town and already he's causing trouble?

"I'm ok. Just lost my ba-a-lance I guess," he replies trying to get back up.

When he put presser on his left leg to stand back up the pain shot down from his hip and stabbed him in his knee. He fell to the right side of the doorframe grabbing on to it to steady himself.

The Sheriff stepped forward quickly to help Norman.

"Norman, I don't think you are ok. I think we should get you to a Doctor is what I think."

"NO," he yells, "I'm fine, really. I just landed on it wrong but I'll be ok."

The Sheriff looked into his eyes and all that he saw staring back at him was fear. Norman was lying and that much was sure, but he didn't really know why. Could it be that Norman was afraid of the people of this town? He was obviously afraid of something.

"Norman, you've hurt your leg. Now we need to go and get you checked out to make sure you're alright. Now, you don't need to worry about these people around here you hear me?"

"I-I-I-don't want to be any trouble."

It was such an odd thing to say. 'He didn't want to be any trouble'. He didn't want anyone making a fuss over him. Or maybe he just wanted to blend in like everyone else?

"Norman, I'm taking you to the Doctor. Just to be safe and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Norman knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. He reluctantly agreed and allowed the Sheriff to help him to the squad car. The Sheriff retrieved some garbage bags for him to sit on and they were on their way to see the local Doctor.

By the time they arrived at the Doctor's office Norman's leg had swollen up. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to put any weight on it.

The Sheriff pulled up to the curb and got out to help Norman. It actually took the two of them plus another stranger to hold the door to get Norman inside.

When the pair entered the doctor's office the people in the waiting room all seemed to stop what they were doing and gaped at the two men.

"Its paint," the Sheriff says before anyone assumes anything.

The people in the waiting room began to whisper to each other.

As they walked by, Norman thought he heard his name circling from the mouths of everyone there. Norman would normally take one of his pills after a thought like that. This time though he didn't imagine it. Everyone there _was_ talking about him.

A nurse walks from around the front counter and instantly ushered the men into a room. With the nurse and the Sheriff's help Norman was able to get onto the examining table.

He lay back on the table and stared at the monotonous ceiling. The balanced dot pattern made his head hurt so he closed his eyes and laid his arm across his forehead. He could hear the Sheriff talking to the nurse outside of the room, from behind the closed door, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He presumed the Sheriff was explaining to the nurse who he was. That seemed to be the theme everywhere he goes. He always wished that once just once he could go somewhere without the whole place knowing who he was and what he had done.

A few minutes pass by and the doctor, nurse and Sheriff walk into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. Bates. My name is Dr. Cordell. The Sheriff here tells me that you took a nasty fall and may have injured you leg? Let's take a look and see what's going on shall we?"

Norman didn't protest when the doctor ordered him into a gown. He also didn't protest when the nurse helped him into the gown. He did protest loudly however, when the doctor touched his hip and then tried to rotate his leg.

Norman shot off the bed so quickly the Sheriff reached for his gun out of habit. The nurse ran to the other side of the room and the doctor jumped clear out of the way next to the Sheriff.

When Norman tried to run his leg failed him. He fell again, only this time he landed face first with his hands outstretched to protect him. When he hit the ground he rolled to his left side grabbing his leg. When he did his back was fully exposed along with the symmetrical burn scars that adorned it.

Dr. Cordell looks at the Sheriff with a questioning expression. The Sheriff didn't have an answer. He merely shrugged with the confusion everyone else had. He had never seen scars like those before, let alone on Norman. He didn't have a clue what they were.

The Sheriff was the first one to come back to his senses.

"Norman? God, son you ok? You didn't have to go running off like that, the doctor isn't gonna to hurt you," he says leaning down to help him.

Norman rolls over and looks at everyone in the room. The three people help him to his feet and back onto the examining table.

"Norman," Dr. Cordell starts, "Where did you get those scars on your back?"

Norman's eyes widened. They had seen the scars. What was he going to tell them? He couldn't tell them the truth. They would probably never believe him anyway.

"Norman?" the Sheriff asks, "Where did they come from? Be honest with me now."

He didn't have a choice. If he lied now, the Sheriff would never believe anything he told him. He would have to tell them about Asylum and what they had done to him.

"They were part of m-my th-h-h-repy at the Insti-tution. E-e-e-e-electro-shho-shock therapy," he says.

"I see. How many treatments did you receive?" Dr. Cordell asks.

"They gave me three every hour for twelve hours starting at six a.m. Then two right before bedtime at nine."

"…how many days?"

"Fifteen years."

"That's not right. They are only supposed to administer six to twelve treatments over a two week period. And they only use electrodes on the head bilaterally, not the back. Where did they attach your electrodes Norman?"

"…back, chest, upper legs, head and wrists," he replies pointing to the areas of his body.

Dr. Cordell glances at Norman's wrist and sees faint scars on them.

"I see. Tell me Norman what medications are you taking now?"

"Thorazine at night and Lithium in the day."

"If you'll excuse us for a moment Norman I'm going to get a pain killer for you and we'll be right back."

The Nurse, Doctor and Sheriff step out of the room into the hallway that was swarming with nurses. Every one of them seems to be trying to get a glance into the room Norman was in. It didn't take long for the rumor to spread like a wild fire. Norman Bates was back!

"Nurse Jackson, would you please go retrieve fifty milligrams of Demerol for Mr. Bates?"

When the nurse left the Doctor turns to the Sheriff.

"They didn't do Electroshock Therapy on this patient. They did experiments. I'm willing to bet against his will too."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. Those burn scars he has are conducive to electroshock but that type of therapy isn't done on the back. Electrodes are only placed on the head at the temples. What was done to him was something I imagine, he didn't agree to."

They experimented on Norman Bates? Why? What did they expect to prove from it? How could anyone treat anyone else like common lab rat?

"I'm betting he didn't want to come here either did he?"

"No. He all but pitched a fit over it."

"Now you know why. He didn't want anyone to see the scars. Tell me who his psychiatrist is?"

"I believe its Dr. Fords out of West Ridge."

"I'm familiar with Dr. Fords. I would suggest a therapy session be scheduled for him. Whatever was done to him will hinder his rehabilitation."

"Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Yes," the Doctor replies watching the nurse walk up, "let him know that this will never, under any circumstances, happen to him again."

The three people walk back into the room with Norman. The doctor administers the pain-killer and then examines Norman's leg much to Norman's dismay.

"Well, Mr. Bates the good news is I don't think it's broken, but the bad news is I do believe you partially dislocated your hip. We'll take some x-rays to be sure and then we'll reset your hip."

Norman lay back on the gurney. The pain-killer was finally kicking in and it made him feel a little woozy. Actually they probably could have taken his leg off and used it as a javelin and he wouldn't have cared at that point. Nonetheless Norman was kind of glad the pain stopped. Even if it did make him feel like he was drunk.

After what seems like only a few minutes a nurse came in and took Norman to x-ray on a gurney. They put him on the machine and manipulated his leg in ways, he was sure, it wasn't supposed to bend to begin with.

He could feel his face and arms tingle and his skin get hot. He wasn't hot, but his skin was. He didn't know if it was normal to feel this way or not but still, he didn't care. His leg didn't hurt and that was all that he cared about…at least he thought it was. He couldn't really think at the moment either.

He finally closed his eyes and relaxed. Maybe he was safe? Maybe he could finally move on from that horrible place. Maybe…hopefully…he could forget everything that happened.

A demented horrid creature grabs at him in his dreams. He could see his mother scolding him for stealing a cookie before dinner time. She always used to slap his hand or pop him in the mouth. Suddenly his Mother turned into a skeleton and stabs him in the left leg.

"Norman? Norman we need you to wake up for us."

He sits up and looks around the room.

Where was he? What had happened?

He slowly understood he was in the Doctors office and had obviously fallen asleep. The nurse, Doctor and Sheriff were in the room with him.

"Norman?"

"Y-eee—s? Yes. I'm…ok," he says looking around.

"Well, Norman your leg isn't broken but you did have a dislocated hip. We reset it while you were still asleep."

He looks down at his leg and did seem to notice it looks different. Or at least that's what his mind told him.

"I'm going to prescribe some pain killers for you. Now, you are not allowed to drive while you take these and only take them if you need them."

"O-o-o-k."

"Ok Norman get dressed. Hopefully we won't see each other for a while," he smiles.

"Tha-a-nk you."

The nurse helped Norman get dressed while another nurse took down his insurance information. She gave him the prescription for the pain-killer and then left the room.

"Alright Norman you ready to go home?"

"I've be-e-en ready since we walked in the door," he laughs.

The Sheriff dropped him back at the motel after going to the pharmacy.

After the Sheriff got Norman back inside the parlor of the motel he took off his hat and sat down.

"Norman I want to know where those burn scars came from? Be honest with me."

Norman sat quietly on the cot in the parlor and stared at the floor.

Great and so it begins…and possible ends too. Well, at least for Norman it will. Every time he gets asked this question no one ever likes the answer. They always call him a liar and then a straight jacket is the next step.

"Norman…God son, just tell me what happened."

Norman finally looked up into the Sheriff's hazel eyes. He can't tell him…could he?

"I already told you…it was part of my therapy."

"Norman…did they…experiment on you in that place?"

"They said it wasn't an experiment…it was—was—was research. They needed research on a patient with Schizophrenia and Borderline Personality Disorder. Guess who fit—fit-fit the bill?"

"Norman, you know that isn't legal, don't you? They have to get your permission to do that kind of thing on you."

"They told me if I didn't consent they would lock me solitary confinement for the rest of my time in there. You see Sheriff I didn't have a choice…if I didn't do as they said I—I-I would never had recovered at all and probably would have gotten worse…not to mention the nightly beating I would have gotten. Because I agreed to let them do—do—do their research I survived and I got out and now I am free to forgot all about that place."

Sheriff Hunt stood up and adjusted his gun belt.

"Well, Norman I want you to understand something son," He starts, "That kind of thing is never gonna happen to you again. Not as long as I am still breathing, not if I have anything to say about it. Do you hear me?"

Norman looked at the Sheriff.

Maybe he really meant it? Maybe Norman could have a real chance, in Fairvale, at a normal life? That's all he wanted. That's all he ever wanted. Maybe the Sheriff would keep his word?

"Thank you Sheriff."

The Sheriff nodded at Norman and put his hat back on. He started toward the door and stopped,

"If you need me Norman you call me, ya hear? I don't care what time it is or what the problem is, you call me."

Norman nodded and watched as the Sheriff left the parlor. He sat on the cot for a moment and looked around.

The entire motel looked like a disaster. He would have to fix it up before he could even stay in it. He needed an income too and that meant he would have to bring up it code.

Norman decided that he would continue working on the motel the next day. He would try to sleep in the parlor tonight. He figured it would be better than the car especially with his leg still being sore.

Fixing the motel went by slowly after that. It seemed like it took forever for his hip to heal. It almost felt like a year. It was a problem to get to all his appointments during that time but he managed. Norman was facing the facts that he really wasn't as young as he used to be either.

But just in time for his birthday Norman was back at one hundred percent. Although he hadn't told anyone about his birthday he suspected the Sheriff knew and probably told a few people.

In a way Norman wanted a birthday party. He wanted to get out and meet people and take on what the town had to offer. But in another way he didn't. He would have to spend his birthday without Connie and Adam this year. They always had a deal since Adam was born. Every year on Norman's birthday they would go to the park by the lake and watch the birds on the water. There were never a lot of them but it was nice just the same. This year however, was different. This year would be hard on Norman and he knew it. He had thought about ignoring his birthday completely, after all it was just a day wasn't it? It would be just a day without Connie and Adam. It would be just a day with him completely alone, again.

Norman is outside working on the trimming of the motel when the Sheriff pulls up. He waves as the Sheriff gets out of his car and walks up to him.

"Hey, J-oo-hn. How are you today?"

"Pretty good. What're you working on today?"

"Still working on the motel," He laughs, "People keep stealing the supplies so it makes it slow going."

"What are they stealing?"

"Oh it's nothing major, just lumber, paint, that kind of thing. Although someone did take the roll of carpet I had for the Cabins. Either that or it got up and walked off."

The Sheriff cackles a bit. He has started to see Norman's sense of humor. It was a good thing too because that meant he was starting to trust him.

"Well how about we set an officer outside here to try and catch these people huh?"

"No. There's really no point to that. If they see a police car I'm pretty sure they won't come around to steal anything. They'll eventually get bored and move on. Besides, there's no reason to tie up an officer on something like this."

"Well if you're sure you don't want one I won't force it on ya."

"No, I'm sure."

The Sheriff stands there for a minute looking at the progress Norman had made on the motel. He had come a long way with it. The outside was completely repainted in a fresh yellow coat. All of the windows had been replaced but from what the Sheriff knew vandals continued to break them too.

Sheriff Hunt steps inside the open door to Cabin One and takes a look around. There still wasn't any furniture inside but the walls were renovated. The carpet had been torn up and was waiting on new carpet to be laid down.

He steps inside the bathroom to be greeted by either a new tub and fixtures or a tub that had been cleaned thoroughly. He wasn't sure which the case was but either way it was looking good. The sink looked brand new and so did the covered mirror on the wall above it. The entire bathroom shined a brilliant and happy glow.

"You've got this place coming along don't you Norman?" He asks stepping outside again.

"Oh…ye—yes. I don't have as much done as I'd like to but I'll finish it one day," He laughs.

"It's looking good Norman," The Sheriff says, "Say, what do you say we take a trip to the diner?"

Norman looks over at the Sheriff,

"Oh, I don't know."

"Come on. It's my treat? Have you even been to the diner yet? I mean since you've been back?"

"No. I didn't," Norman takes a breath, "Know how well that would go over."

"I think it will go over fine. Come on I know you're hungry. From what the doctor has told me, you haven't been eating very well lately…even been losing some weight. Is that true Norman?"

A sheepish smile crosses Norman's face,

"Yes, it's true."

"Uh-huh. Norman you need to eat. My God son, you're already thin as a rail."

"What's that joke Sheriff…"

The Sheriff gives Norman an inquisitive look and finally shrugs shaking his head.

"Something about turning sideways and sticking out my tongue, I could pass for a zipper?"

Sheriff Hunt stared blankly at Norman and then burst into laughter.

Did Norman just attempt to make a joke?

The Sheriff was seeing more and more of Norman's sense of humor. From what he saw so far, he liked the new Norman Bates. He was actually kind of fun to be around. You never knew what he would say.

"Oh, get in the car Norman," Sheriff Hunt laughs.

Norman put down the tool he was working with and got into the Sheriff's car. He sat down and waited as the Sheriff got into the other side of the car.

Before they pulled out of the parking lot the Sheriff reached back and grabbed something from the back seat.

"Happy Birthday Norman," He says handing him a card.

Norman was genuinely surprised. The Sheriff had caught him completely off guard.

"Thanks John. You have no idea how much I really do appreciate that."

"Actually Norman…I do."

Norman smiled to himself as they drove off heading toward the diner.

If you want more review it and tell me what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Sheriff pulls up to Statler's Diner with Norman. He looks over at Norman; the tension in the man's eyes screamed silently.

He couldn't blame Norman for feeling that way and he knew there was nothing he could say to him that would change his mind.

"Come on Norman, let's get something to eat," The Sheriff says opening the car door.

Norman watched the Sheriff get out of the car. He saw him walk over to the door and then turn around and look at Norman.

_He is waiting for you. He is waiting for you to walk into your doom._

Norman diverted his eyes to the side view mirror; his frightened expression stares back. He sighs deeply and looks down to reach for the door's handle. He looks back up to the mirror and sees that horrible old woman smiling back at him. She had the typical all knowing, all seeing look upon her half rotted face…well…it was a typical look for her anyway.

"They're going to hunt you down Norman! Mark my words boy! They will hunt you down and kill you!" the corpse spoke.

Can he do this? Can he face these people from so long ago? All of these people that hated him and were terrified at his very name; some of them even tried to kill him.

They tried to kill him…what would stop them from doing it again? What would stop them from driving him back into an asylum?

Norman glared at the mirror and then opened the car door and stepped out onto the ground.

He paid more attention to his feet than he did anything else while he followed the Sheriff inside the diner.

"Myrna, when did your niece graduate again I keep forgetting."

"May 10th of last year…if you can believe it."

"I remember when that girl…"

The door to the diner opened up and Sheriff Hunt walked in with a man in tow behind him.

Myrna glances up at the Sheriff and smiles…until he sat down and she could see the man behind him.

She covered her mouth with her hand and bolted out of the booth.

"Myrna? What in the world is the matter?"

Myrna's eyes filled with tears as she began to violently shake her head.

The Sheriff jumped up from the seat and ran over to her, trying to console her.

"It's him! It's him!" she screams, "Its Norman Bates!"

As soon as Norman heard his name the entire busy diner went silent. All of the patrons were staring at him. A few of them stood up and made their way toward one of the doors…no one left though…not yet.

Myrna was almost hysterical. There were several people around her trying their best to calm her but nothing was working.

Norman could see the color drain from her face and the tears fall down her cheeks. He knew that he was the reason for those tears of pain. He knew he was the reason she was so sad and yet there was nothing he could do about it…but for once he decided he would do something.

Amongst the chaos Norman made his way over to Myrna and before everyone knew it he was in front of her. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear.

It was an instant reaction from her; her tears stopped, her face became lively again and she did not run or cringe in terror anymore.

Norman leaned up and smiled at her. He wiped her tears with his hands and mouthed the words "I promise".

Myrna smiled slightly. She looked into his deep brown eyes. She understood exactly what he had meant. She never understood until that moment what Norman had gone through during his episode…but now she did. Norman was truly as much a victim as anyone else.

Everyone in the diner began to whisper to each other. Some were desperately trying to figure out what Norman had said to Myrna.

"I'm going to tell your mother you said that to me," Myrna says barely above a whisper carefully studying him.

Norman laughed heartily, "Better start digging now then…you may reach her by next spring…you may also want to take a jackhammer with you."

"Jackhammer?" Sheriff Hunt asks while watching Myrna smirk a little.

"Oh yes. I had concrete poured over her grave four years ago."

"Why Norman?" someone asks from behind them.

"I wasn't taking anymore chances," he replies turning and laughing, "That crazy woman is very dead and I wanted to make sure she would stay that way,"

Chuckles came from around Norman. He heard the people laughing with him.

Suddenly an unusual feeling came over him. What was this feeling?

A broad smile crossed his face as he finally realized what it was that he felt. Acceptance. He was finally being accepted by people that he used to terrorize no less. In a way this had Norman worried. He wasn't entirely sure if these people would start expecting things from him or not. Then again if they did wouldn't that make him a regular citizen? Either way he was just grateful to be a part of something instead of the cause of something.

"Sheriff we need you en-route to the Meakers Farm. There is a report of a body that surfaced in the swamp behind the house."

Norman's eyes caught the gaze of the Sheriff. Before the Sheriff could say anything Norman planted his hands on the table and halfway stood up in the booth,

"I was with you the who-o-o-le time," he exclaims pointing at the Sheriff, "Don't stare at me like that, I know that look."

The Sheriff couldn't help himself and he starts to laugh.

"…Besides," Norman continues sitting back down, "I always hide the bodies in the swamp behind the motel; far less distance to travel."  
Most of the dinner sat in silence and only looked at Norman with a doe-eyed stare. It was Myrna that finally spoke,

"That's true Norman. You were too lazy to travel across the state and try to hide the bodies the right way. You just dumped them in your backyard."

"I wasn't being lazy," he responds with a couth look and crossing his arms, "I was being a rebellious child. I thought it was Mother that killed them and I was getting tired of cleaning up her mess. Little did I know, at the time, it wasn't Mother."

Norman rose from the booth and walked over to the counter to grab a menu.

"Had I realized it was me doing all those horrible things I would have taken more of an effort to cover my tracks. Do you really believe I would have used the swamp behind my own house as a dumping ground? No, I would have gone-on-on to another state. I certainly would not have let people check into my motel and even put their names on the registry if I intended to kill them later. I never would have made a good serial killer. Not an intentional one any way. I was terrible at covering things up. I couldn't even lie to my Mother when she was alive let alone a-a-a policeman. I think the only thing that would have perfected my disgraceful killing spree would have been for me to put up a giant spotlight and a neon sign that read, 'Bodies Here'."

Norman sat back down across from the Sheriff who was turning a very bright shade of red.

The Sheriff waves his hand in front of his face and finally laughs out. To Norman's amazement several others in the dinner followed the Sheriff's example.

When the Sheriff was able to compose himself he reaches for his radio while getting up from the table and says,

"10-4 Vera. I'm on my way."

The Sheriff stops for a moment to say something else, but Norman cuts him off,

"I'll be fine. I can walk home from here."

"You sure bout that Norman?" He asks walking toward the door, "I can come back by when I'm done and pick you up."

"No, I'm sure," Norman replies turning behind him toward the Sheriff, "I need the exercise anyway."

"Well, I won't argue with you. Ok Norman. I'll come by the house later on then,"

"Ok Sheriff. See you later," He waves.

When Norman turned back around Myrna was sitting in front of him at the booth.

This was the last thing he expected. He still thought she hated him, but maybe not. She couldn't hate him that much otherwise would she be sitting with him?

A lot of people left as the Sheriff did. They all seemed to go their separate ways but unbeknownst to the Sheriff or to Norman they all met up in the town's square. Norman didn't notice anyone leave though, he was too busy eying Myrna.

"Do you remember any of it Norman?" She asks him, "I mean anything that you did; that happened?"

"Bits and pieces. It's not exactly something I'm proud of. It's not something I can put on a resume either…" Norman paused for a moment and then added, "Special skills; good with knives."

Myrna was completely caught off guard by his comment. She started to ask him how he could say such things but was never given the chance.

"It's all I have left…my sense of humor I mean. It's the one thing they—they—they couldn't take from me. It's the one thing that kept me from losing my mind and never coming back. It's my only defense."

Norman lowered his head and stared at the table. A tall glass of milk was set down in his line of sight. He grabs the milk and brought it up to his lips,

"You wouldn't understand. All any of you see is the monster. That's all anyone from this place will see. No one sees what I have become. You only see wh-h-hat I once was."

He took a long drink from the glass. He could feel the cool liquid slide down his parched throat. He closed his eyes and sat for a moment taking in the flavor of the beverage.

A few seconds later he felt a hand on his own. He opens his eyes and looks down to see Myrna's hand holding his. He glances back up at her.

"I'm trying not to see the monster. As a matter of fact the only thing I see right now is Norman," she smiles at him.

He smiles and gave her hand a slight squeeze.

"You have no idea what that means to me," he whispers putting down the glass.

"Actually…I'm pretty sure I do."

The Sheriff sat in his car for a moment fumbling with the radio. He needed directions to the Meakers Farm. For the life of him he couldn't remember how to get there from the old Highway.

When he finally finished writing down the directions he looks into the diner.

He saw Myrna sitting with Norman. He was worried for a bit until he saw Myrna smile and then the two of them laugh.

Norman was going to be ok…but then again; the body. John remembered that what Norman had said was true. Norman only dumped his victims in the swamp behind his house and never anywhere else…unless he changed his motive? That was most unlikely though. It was rare for a serial killer to change their motive.

The Sheriff temporarily dismissed his thought and left headed to the Meakers Farm.

As the Sheriff passed by the square he noticed a lot of people had gathered there near the church but thought nothing of it.

"You sure bout that Billy?"

"I saw him with my own two eyes. Plane as day: Norman Bates. He came in with the Sheriff."

"He came in with John?"

"Sure did, Deb."

"What's he doing back here? I thought he moved to L.A? That's what I heard anyway."

"I heard he got married?"

"Norman took a wife?"

"Well I didn't see no wife with him and I didn't see no ring on his finger neither."

"Crazy shit's gonna start happening like last time…you wait and see!"

"It already has!"

"What are talking bout Billy?"

"I heard the Sheriff get called out to the Meakers Farm…they found a body in the swamp behind the house!"

"I told you so! I told you!"

"Settle down Al. That don't mean nothing!"

"The hell it don't! Every time that boy comes round people start waking up dead!"

"Now Don just give it a rest. We don't know…"

"Yes I agree," A voice from behind the group says, "Give it a rest."

The small soon-to-be lynch mob turned to be greeted by the Deputy Sheriff, Leo Tate.

"Sheriff, how ya doing this afternoon?"

"Pretty good Earl. I'm not getting folks worked up over nothing…starting a mob and everything. How're you?"

The group exchanged looks to one another.

"We got a right to talk Sheriff. We ain't hurting nuthin'!"

"You're right Al you're not. Not yet. But what you are doing is getting people stirred up and then their going to start panicking and that's when people get hurt."

"Sheriff! We…"

"I don't want to hear it Deb. What I want is, for you nice folks to go on about your business and leave Norman Bates alone. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir Sheriff."

"You know Bates won't be kept a secret for long don't ya? You can't keep something like that hidden. People will find out!"

"I'm sure they will Billy. But for now I want people to go on living their lives and just leave the poor man alone. Got it?"

"Ok Sheriff have it your way."

"Fine by me."

"What about you Billy? Do we understand each other?"

"No sir Sheriff we don't. People have the right to know he's back in town and I aim to tell em'. "

Deputy Tate sighed deeply and shook his head. He took his handcuffs from their pouch and took a step toward Billy.

"I'm placing you under arrest for disorderly conduct. Place your hands on your head."

"You think this is gonna stop me Sheriff? You're nuttier than Bates."

The Deputy hand cuffed Billy and began a search of his person.

"You have the right to remain silent," he starts.

"I got all these witnesses that I didn't do nothing wrong!"

"Oh shut up Billy!" Deb yells, "Just hush…you're making Sheriff Tate do it! You're making him arrest you!"

"Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present now and during any future questioning."

"Just you wait Sheriff. I won't have to tell anyone! People have already found out!"

"If you cannot afford an attorney one will appointed to you free of charge if you wish. Do you understand your rights?"

"You know how small towns are Sheriff. You know how people talk," Billy says looking back at the Deputy, "Ya…I understand."

"I know how small towns are Billy. That's why I'm trying to stop a mess before it happens. Let's go."

"Tell me Norman, I heard that you moved to LA. Is that right?" Myrna asks.

"Yes I did…for a little while. Then I had to move back," Norman replies.

"It didn't have anything to do with you killing someone, did it?" a voice asks.

Norman and Myrna turn to see a woman standing there. She had a testy attitude that was very close to getting her punched in the mouth. At least that's what Myrna was thinking.

"Look hun, I don't know who you think you are but…" Myrna starts.

"It's ok Myrna. This is Tracy Venable. She used to work for the paper years ago and tried to do a story on me when I first got out."

"She doesn't ring a bell…" Myrna says.

"I tried to kill her," Norman said nonchalantly, "because I snapped again. Duke took Mother and hid her in one of the cabins. He threatened to blackmail me if I didn't give him half of everything. I killed Duke because I thought he was going to kill Mother. Then Maureen fell down the stairs and died. She came up to the house and I almost killed her too. But instead I killed Mother…again. I wanted her to die…no one else…not ever again. But I almost killed again after that."

"I see your memory is getting better," Tracy says smiling.

"It comes and goes. Sometimes I just need a kick-start," he smiles.

"Who did you almost kill Norman? Who was it?" a diner patron asks.

"My wife, Connie. I came close to snapping again…I even called a radio talk show and talked to the host for hours about it. I came back here with Connie and took her up to the house. I wanted her to see the—the—thing she had married. I wanted her to understand that we couldn't let it happen…we couldn't let me get out again. Not to this town, not to any town."

"What do you mean Norman?" Ralph Statler asks, "Couldn't let _you_ happen?"

"I couldn't let my bloodline continue…"

Myrna covered her mouth with her hands.

"Connie was pregnant. I couldn't bare the thought of…another—mon—monster. I knew my condition was hereditary and I couldn't take the chance of the child being like me. I love Connie but I thought I had to…"

Norman covered his face with his hands. He quickly got up and left the diner. He would walk home. He would have walked anywhere at that point. He just knew he didn't want to be around anyone.

"So Bates is back huh?"

"That's right. Billy said he saw him up at the diner with John earlier. Then when he tried to tell us about it, Sheriff Tate arrested him," Deb says, "Turn left here Jay."

Jay complied and turned the old, green Dodge onto the Old Highway.

"So was he…well you know…" Jay begins.

"Nuttier than a fruitcake?" Deb replies.

"Yeah, that."

"Actually no."

Jay turned to Deb with a wide-eyed expression.

"Really?"

"Yeah. He was actually joking around and stuff. Seemed like he was in good spirits."

"Seemed like he was normal?"

"Normal for Norman Bates."

Jay sat silently for a minute and continued driving down the Old Highway. They passed by Statler's place and kept driving to Deb's house.

"I wonder how long that will last?"

"Maybe he's really cured this time Jay? I mean, he really seemed to be ok. He seemed like he was just trying to be one of the guys."

"You really think he's one of the guys huh?"

"Yes, I do."

"You think we should give him a chance?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you think I should stop and pick him up?"

"Yes, I…wait..huh?"

"He's right there walking," Jay says pointing ahead of them.

Deb and Jay both glanced in front of them to see a very distraught Norman walking down the road. It was obvious that Norman was upset about something.

"This goes against my better judgment…"

"You can't be serious girl…" Jay starts to argue.

"Just pull over."

Jay shakes his head and starts mumbling obscenities under his breathe. He did however do as was asked of him and pulled the truck over next to Norman.

Deb looks at Norman as they rolled to a stop. He looked as though he had been crying.

"Are you ok, Norman?" Deb asks.

Norman stared at the ground, "I'll—I'll be ok," he stammers.

"I'm calling you a liar Norman Bates," Deb exclaims.

Norman looks up at her in shock. He knew some people in this town could be blunt but never like that before.

"Are you heading home?" Deb asks him.

Norman was still having trouble speaking without tears in his voice. The only thing he could do was nod.

Deb opened the door to the truck and slid over, "Get in," she told him.

"I don't…" Norman starts.

"You ain't putting nobody out Norman. Deb lives past your house in the old Dallas farm now. We have to pass your house to get to hers. Get in the truck Norman," Jay says matter-of-factly.

Norman was going to argue again but decided against it. One thing his Mother did teach him is there was point in arguing with a woman once her mind was made up.

Norman got into the truck and stared at the floorboard the entire ride home. Deb tried to engage him in conversation but he just had too many things on his mind. He didn't really feel like talking either. Thankfully he was home before he knew it. He thanked Jay and Deb for their kindness and then disappeared into the motel office. He figured he had nothing better to do than start cleaning up, so that's what he decided to do for the rest of the morning on into the evening.

Sheriff Hunt pulls up to Statler's Diner.

God what a crime scene that was. At least he knew for a fact that Norman didn't kill that man. Five bullet holes in him. He also looked liked he had been floating for a while. He may have floated in from a tributary upstream somewhere. Ah, the coroner's report will tell all though. No need to worry about now.

The Sheriff walks inside the diner and grabbed a seat in the first booth.

"Hey, John…so what's the story with that body?"

The Sheriff looks up at everyone. Every single eye in the place was on him. He knew what they wanted too. They wanted to know if Bates had killed that man. They wanted to know if the psycho was back.

"You know I can't discuss a case with anyone. You know better than that."

"I know John but…"

"Norman probably didn't do it if that's what you all want to know."

"How do you know Sheriff?"

"The body was shot and that's all I'm gonna tell you. You better drop it too and I don't wanna hear nothin bout any of you bothering Norman about this neither!"

"No one is gonna bother that poor smuck," Ralph says, "at least not in here they won't. That I can guarantee."

"Hey, where is Norman anyway?" the Sheriff asks.

"Oh he left about seven hours ago. He was kind of upset when he left."

"Why was he upset?"

"Talking about he wife and he got upset and split."

The Sheriff sat for a minute and then got up, "I'll be back," he said.

"I know John. Just make sure that Norman is hungry when you bring him back. I got his favorite tonight: meatloaf," Ralph says.

Sheriff John Hunt pulls up to the Bates Motel. He sees the fire damaged house on the hill behind the motel. The fog creeping in made a shutter course over him. He never would forget what happened in that place; finding all those bodies and Norman completely out of his mind. Hopefully this time he will never have to worry about it again. So far Norman has been a perfect everyday citizen. Although he wasn't sure how long this would last. There are still people around that want Norman to go back to the Asylum permanently but none of them are going to the extreme that Lila Loomis and her daughter did some years back. That whole situation was a nightmare for everyone. Those two actually set poor Norman off again to the point that he snapped and started back on his Mother binge. There toward the end the daughter, Mary, had even dressed up as Norman's dead mother and was about to stab Norman while he was completely defenseless. Norman had thought his mother was back and Mary was her so naturally he wasn't going to attack her. But that didn't stop Mary from trying to kill him. Thank goodness they got there right as she was about to do the deed though; shot her on sight. But the damage had been done. Poor Norman ended up resorting back to his old ways and killed a few people. He also ended up back in an institution. Maybe this time there won't be an encore for this horrid show though.

"Norman? Are you here?" he calls getting out of the car.

Stillness is the only thing that returned his call. From inside one of the cabins the sheriff all at once heard a loud clunk. He reaches for his gun and unlatched the strap to the holster. With his hand on his gun he quietly walked to the cabin the noise came from.

Peaking around the corner he could see Norman struggling with a bed that fell on him. There was nothing else out of the ordinary in the room.

Sheriff Hunt strapped his weapon back in and walked into the room with Norman.

"Hang on Norman I'll help you out."

Norman jumped, completely surprised by the Sheriff coming up behind him.

"I tho-ought I had it, but apparently it had me!" he says with a grin.

"Sometimes you just have to know when to ask for help."

"I couldn't. There is no one here but me. So if I asked for help wouldn't I… be talking to myself?"

The Sheriff looks down at Norman's half cocked grin. He burst into laughter like he had just inhaled all the nitrous oxide in the world.

When the Sheriff finally calmed down he continued the conversation.

"So how's it coming along with fixing the place up? I bet it's been a chore hasn't it?"

"Not inordinately. It's just something I have to do so there's no point in complaining about it."

"I wish all my deputies had that attitude. Maybe we could get more things done if they did."

"I could talk to them if you like. Bring them by Sheriff I bet I could surely open their-their-their eyes," Norman smiles.

The Sheriff was really staring to enjoy Norman's sense of humor. Jack West was right. Norman did take a while to warm up to people but once he did he was a real riot. He could certainly have you laughing so hard you could hardly breathe.

"So tell me Norman last I heard about you, you were married living in Los Angeles I think. What happened with that? Why did you move back to Farivale?"

Norman cast his eyes down at the ground. He carefully studied the coke in his hand.

"What is it Norman?"

"I was married, to the most beautiful woman in the world. Connie. We had a son, Adam, he was three. One night when Connie was coming home with Adam she called me from her cell phone. There was a bad storm out and she was out later than she had planned. I heard a loud noise on the phone and the line went dead. I had cooked dinner and was waiting on them. I finally fell asleep waiting, and the next day when I got up I had an appointment with my-my head doctor. Later that night is when I saw the-the-the news report."

The sheriff saw a tear run down Norman's face.

This was not what John was expecting. Norman was starting to cry.

"The news said the accident claimed thirty people. The bo-o-odies were burned from the fire with the tanker truck…"

Sheriff Hunt clasps his mouth with his hand and took off his hat with the other. He couldn't imagine the hurt that Norman was feeling. He didn't want too either.

Norman laughed and stared up into the flawless sky. Tears were free flowing down his face at this point. But Norman didn't care. He didn't care who saw him cry, especially because of why he was crying. He still missed them both very much and he knew there would always be an empty space in his soul.

"I sup-p-pose I deserve it," he cracks, "I deserve losing them both, after what I did. I guess its God's way of making things right…eye for an eye."

"Norman, I don't ever want to hear that come out of your mouth again," the sheriff says touching Norman's arm, "No one deserves that and God isn't punishing you either. It was an accident and sometimes, well, accidents just happen to good people. Norman… you're good people."

Norman looks up into the Sheriff's eyes and sniffed the tears back.

"Tha-an- ank you," he says wiping his nose with his hand.

Sheriff Hunt looks at the bed in the room.

"Come on, let's get this stuff moved in and then we can head over to the diner to get some dinner. Ralph says he cooked meatloaf tonight. My treat, what do ya say?"

A small barely audible laugh escapes Norman, "Ok, sounds good," he says wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Norman had finally got his emotions back. He wasn't sure how long he would grieve but strangely it felt good that he was. He could finally release everything. He could finally feel something other than the humor he was using to try and cover everything up. Norman could finally feel. He felt…normal.

Don't forget to review.


	6. Chapter 6

*NOTE I don't own any of these character. If you like the story I suggest, if you haven't, to purchase the films. Psycho I, II, III, IV.

The diner was nothing more than a rundown shack that happened to have good food and a great atmosphere...to some people. To Norman, however, it was both a sanctuary and a purgatory. Norman had worked at the diner at one point. He did enjoy the work but the people got to him. There was more than one time that Norman had been harassed by a patron, simply because of Norman's past.

In some ways Norman did enjoy going back to the diner. It reminded him of the good times; the laughs he had, the fun times, the friends he had made. But then came the reminders of the things he had done. Those terrible things that he had done when he was out of his mind. In some ways Norman felt as though he had been possessed. Exactly how he could be possessed by his dead mother was something that even a psychiatrist couldn't piece together.

Every time Norman walked into the diner he could feel the eyes upon him. He could feel everyone judging, wondering, chastising him.

As Sheriff Hunt pulled up to the diner Norman could feel his stomach turn over.

"Norman?" Sheriff Hunt began, "I want to ask you something but I really don't know how to go about doing it."

Here it comes. The past rearing its ugly head and virtually spitting in Norman's face.

Norman took a deep breath and carefully chose his words. He did trust the sheriff but there were some things that he simply could not tell him. Although the new medicine he started did seem to be working better, he was still having the visions of his mother. Oddly enough that wasn't what frightened him the most. Norman had also been seeing things that he knew weren't there; strange colors and walls that were breathing, things like that. Norman was sure that wasn't typical, but he dared not share that with anyone. He was terrified as to what would happen to him if he mentioned it. Instead he just ignored it with the hopes that the new medicine would make everything...normal.

"What do you want to ask?" Norman inquired.

"Well, I really don't know how to bring it up and I know it will sound a bit...strange."

Strange? That was one area that Norman knew all about.

"Just ask sheriff. It can't be any stranger than the present."

The sheriff chuckled a bit to himself. Norman was right. Just the current events were definitely of the surreal nature.

"Okay, I wanted to know...well...I wanted to know if you would feel comfortable coming to the town's festival?"

That's it? A festival? No past demons, no past haunts, no murder investigations?

"A festival? You mean...these people want me at a festival?" Norman was beside himself. He had never been invited to anything in his life. Let alone a festival in the town where he brutally murdered several people.

"What in tarnation did you think I was going to ask?"

"I didn't know. I never know with you John."

That was the first time that Norman had ever called the sheriff by his first name. The sheriff and Norman both noticed this great hurdle that had finally been overcome.

"That's true Norman. But there is a festival coming up and I didn't know if you would go or not. I didn't know if that was your thing."

"What kind of festival is it? Wait...who am I kidding? If it gets me out of the house I'm...I'm...I'm...for it."

The sheriff laughed out loud with a great resounding.

"Well it starts at the beginning of next month and it goes all that first weekend. There will be games and dancing and a whole mess a' food."

"Sounds like a lot of fun. Be nice if I could find a girlfriend at this thing...providing she can overlook the whole 'likes to play with knives' thing."

The sheriff turned a bright red and started coughing with laughter. He quickly opened the door and got out of the squad car for some air. Norman's humor could really get the better of you sometimes.

Norman followed the sheriff out of the car and into the diner without another thought about the judgments he might get. His brain was too occupied with grand thoughts of whether or not he remembered how to dance.

Once Norman entered the diner behind the sheriff his fears came back to him. But something was different this time. Something was happening that Norman did not know how to take.

When Norman entered the diner, not a single patron acknowledged him. Not one person looked up and stared. Not a single conversation was halted in Norman's wake. Time did not stop and everything continued like Norman wasn't even there.

Were they finally accepting him? Did they finally realize that he was not the devil?

A passing waitress confirmed Norman's thoughts.

"Hey, Norman. You want your usual milk?"

It took a moment for reality to set in. Poor Norman just stood in the walkway blocking the pedestrian traffic. Finally the sheriff backtracked and nudged him before he went to a table.

"What?" Norman asked coming back.

"You want a milk to drink Norman?" the waitress repeated.

"Yes...yes...please,' he replies joining the sheriff at the table nearby.

"Got a regular coffee for you sheriff. You boys hungry?"

"I know I am," the sheriff says, "I bet Norman is too after that whole 'bed falling on him' fiasco"

"Norman? What's he talking about?" says a voice.

Norman and the sheriff looked up to see Myrna. For some reason Norman automatically slide over in the booth to make room for her. After he did so, his own expression was of complete shock from his actions.

The sheriff noticed this and started to say something when Myrna cut him off,

"Thank you Norman, I don't mind if I do,' she said sitting down, 'Now tell me about this bed fiasco?"

Norman grinned a sheepish grin. He actually blushed a bit too.

"I was trying to move a bed around at the motel. Let's just say; bed - 1 , Norman - 0."

The sheriff and Myrna laughed out loud. Several other customers around them all turned to see the commotion. When the happy faces reported a joyous occasion many people began to eavesdrop.

Norman pulled a pill from his pocket as their drinks arrived. Myrna was the only one to notice it. Being that she was Myrna she inquired,

"What's that for Norman?"

Norman popped the pill into his mouth and chased it with some of the delicious milk.

"One of my medications. They keep changing them on me though so I'm sure I won't be taking it by next week."

"They keep screwing up the dosage or something?" the waitress asked.

Norman eyed the woman a minute but she continued,

"My doc keeps doing that shit to me. Got some pills I have to take for my BP. Every other week he's either changing the pill or the dosage. Makes me wonder if he really knows what he's doing."

"Two meatloaf specials, Mandy," the sheriff says.

"Tell me about it," Norman interjected, "There for a while I became a guinea pig. 'This is a new pill on the market for schizophrenia. We're going to test it on you Norman. Side effects include your skin falling off,'" Norman raised his voice, "That's not a side effect! That's a major effect! I like my skin where it is thank you!"

The waitress laughed along with several others in the diner. Norman looked around to see several warm faces all smiling and laughing with him. He didn't feel at all threatened.

"They really made you a guinea pig huh?" Myrna asks.

Norman nodded with a weary smile, 'Every time something new came on the market I was always the test subject. I kinda wished I had charged them for it. I would be rich right now."

"They don't still do that, do they Norman?" the sheriff asks.

"Oh no, my new doctor doesn't do that. He's changed my medications a lot but he said that was because I had built up a tolerance to some of them...all the pills I had to take I guess. My new doctor is great though. Real nice guy. The doctor I had right after I got out of the asylum was really nice too. I kinda miss him," Norman's face fell sad at the last comment. He did miss . He also missed Jack West.

"You know Norman, you could always go for a visit. You could go see Jack while you at it," the sheriff says.

It's like he had been reading Norman's thoughts; which were good, pure, and non-psycho at that moment. Luckily for Norman.

"Norman, if you want to go see and Jack then maybe I can go with you. I have an aunt on that side of town and I really need to go visit soon," Myrna added in.

The shockwave that went through Norman felt as though he were back in electroshock therapy again. Pain seared into his head, chest, and hands. Myrna...the woman that hated him and even cried at his presence when he first got back into town, had offered to go with him. They would be together...alone...in a car... for hundreds of miles.

"Think about it Norman," Myrna continued, "you could see your old doc and Jack. It would be great for me too because I hate making that drive alone."

Was she serious?

Another shockwave ripped through Norman's body. Pain danced behind his eyes and chest.

"Norman are you okay? You look a little flush." the sheriff asked.

"Feel a little weird. I'll...I'll be okay," Norman replies.

Norman looked out the window and noticed a bee on the outside ledge. The bee buzzed it's happy little tune; as if it were singing a sonnet to Norman personally. A smile crossed Norman's face and he was about to share his thought when he looked down at the table and saw thousands of bee's everywhere.

Norman tries to jump from the table. He held himself sandwiched in between the tabletop and the seat of the booth. Suddenly the bee's disappeared.

"Norman, what's wrong?" Myrna along with everyone else in the diner had all eyes on Norman.

Norman paused a moment. He realized the bee's were never there to begin with.

"Since they changed my medication," Norman started, "I feel like I'm going out of my mind sometimes."

The sheriff's look said it all without a single word.

"Not like that..." Norman says, "Get that out of your head. Mother is still very dead. I'm just not feeling..."

Another shockwave of pain shot through Norman like a bullet. He felt like his head was on fire.

Norman's arms spasmed. His hands suddenly had a mind of their own. They were shaking so badly he couldn't control them. Norman looked down at the table and saw ants covering the table. The ants were running frantically from place to place.

"Norman?" the sheriff exclaimed.

"Can't you see them?" Norman asked exhausted.

The ants suddenly melted and brilliant colors cascaded across the table. It was like the sun was setting right on the table in front of him.

Norman's head hurt tremendously. He hoped it would explode to end the pain. He felt his heart trying to escape from his chest. He looked over and saw Myrna getting up from the table and several people all running in different directions at once. Norman suddenly couldn't breathe. He grasped his throat and bolted out of the booth desperately seeking the sweet air that he needed. He fell to the floor still gasping for breath. He saw several people running over and around him and then he saw Myrna coming over him. She had something in her hand, but Norman couldn't tell what it was. He felt a painful stab to his thigh as blackness overcame him.

The days that followed made Norman's head spin. He was in the hospital for at least 3 days. But he only remembered one of them. He was told that he had an allergic reaction to his last medication. That medication almost killed him. Norman had gone into respiratory arrest. He would have died but Myrna just happened to have an allergy to bee stings. She always kept an EpiPen on her at all times. Had it not been for Myrna, Norman would be facing his eternal torment.

After the diner incident, the sheriff, along with several other people would stop by to see Norman at his house. People seemed to be making a big fuss over him. That was something that always bothered him. He didn't like people making a big deal about him in any way. But it was a nice change for people to be concerned instead of bloodthirsty.

After what seemed like, an eternal month things finally started to get back to normal. Until one early morning Norman woke up with a start.

There was a commotion outside. Norman goes to the window and looks out to see several cars down at the motel. None were police cars, so it couldn't be that bad could it?

Norman gets up and goes down to the motel. When he walks into the office it is packed with people.

"What's going on? Is there a-a-a football game or something?"

The office went silent as everyone within stared at Norman in awe. Finally one of the young women spoke up.

"No. Actually everyone here wants to rent a Cabin."

"All-all of you?"

The crowd seemed to nod in unison. To Norman's shock there were several young women there that all seemed to be winking at him. Were they…flirting with him?

"Mr. Bates?"

Norman turns around to the young man that called him.

"Ye-e-s?"

"Are you Norman Bates?" another man asks.

Norman turns around again to the other voice, "Yes. Why?" If he continued this he knew he would be dizzy within minutes. Hell, he might even pass out...again. Lord knows he couldn't do that with all these people around. God knows what he would wake up to.

The crowd of teenagers all gaped and awed at once. They seem to be worshipping him. They had poor Norman terribly confused. What was going on here?

"Mr. Bates it's a pleasure to meet you," a teenage woman says holding her hand out.

Norman shakes her hand dumbstruck.

"Wh-h-y are all of you here?" he asks.

"He even has the stutter, it has to be him!" Norman hears a voice say.

"Sir what are knives referred to while in a group?" a young man asks.

"Not in a group David," a woman protests, "He means, what are knives used for cutting and eating prepared food referred to?" she asks him.

Norman looks around at the group of teens. He thinks for a second and then responds.

"C-c—u—u—u—tlery?" he asks.

"Oh my God it is him! Mary was right!" a woman's voice shrieks.

"You are open aren't you?"

"Ye—yes."

Norman had thought his head was spinning before. This time he knew he wasn't dreaming and he wasn't having an allergic reaction. His head really was spinning. All of the teens wanted a room.

After an hour all of the teens have been issued keys to their rooms. He checked with all of them to make sure they were all at least eighteen. The last thing he wanted was for an angry parent to pay him a visit. He couldn't believe that for the first time ever, he flipped the sign outside to read 'NO VACANCY'. He didn't think he would ever see that day.

For a while it seemed to Norman that every time he would get a room available another teen would snatch it up before he could even change the linen. It was getting to be too much for him. He was having a hard enough time trying to fix up Mother's old house, dealing with the motel, dealing with the new medications, and dealing with his doctor's appointments. The thing that got to him the most though was dealing with his new stalkers.

There was more than once, Norman had been up at his house working on it when a girl had approached him about some sort of problem in her room, only to have them try to come on to Norman once he was inside the room alone with them. He had run out Cabins on more than one occasion. He was close to being a hermit in the house again. He had a bad enough reputation without adding statutory rape to the list. Not that he would ever do that anyway.

Norman may have been crazy but his mother would never have approved him courting a lady that was twenty years his junior. Even Norman shuddered at the thought of it.

One thing was sure, that if he was going to continue having the motel open he would have to hire some people to help him.

After a rough day of working on the house and even rougher night at the motel he placed a 'help wanted' sign on the door to the office and out by the road. He may have to wait a while before anyone applied but he had to do something.

It was only a couple of days later when Norman entered the office to find a young couple there waiting on him. Well, to Norman he considered everyone young but they were probably in their early twenties.

"I'm sorry," he says walking in, "I don't have any rooms available. I've been booked up for a while."

"Oh, we're interested in the help wanted sign. Are you still hiring?" the man asks.

"Yes-oh yes. There are two openings. Normally I give a Cabin to my employees but I don't have any available. There's still the parlor here and it has a cot but it's not as good as the Cabins."

"Oh that would be fine. We're both looking for a job if you'd hire us. Do you have applications?

"Oh that's not necessary. I'll pay you seven-fifty an hour. I need one of you to do days and the other nights. You'd be changing the linens, making the beds of course, empting trash and things like that. Are you two still interested?"

"Sure are. When can we start?"

"How about now?" he laughs.

"That'd be great," he says, "My name is Jeff and this is my wife Allison."

Norman shook both of their hands and then waves them into the parlor.

"My name is Norman. Come on back," he says.

When the three of them got settled in the back Norman went over to his desk to fish out the office keys.

"How long have you been in business Norman?" Jeff asks.

"Too long. I probably should have retired ten years ago. I just can't let the place go though." Norman knew that he had to tell these two about his past. Just in case he does do something odd again, or even pass out like before, "Look. I have to tell you guys that my past is not the best. I did some terrible things a long time ago. And...and I paid the price for it. But I have to take some medication for it. They still don't have the dose quite right on the medicine though...so...I may do things...or..or...say things that don't make sense. I may e-e-e-ven pass out."

Norman looked over the couple looking for any signs of fear. He figured they would leave but much to his surprise they sat quietly listening.

"So..." Jeff started, "You're _that_ Norman. I take it the motel is named after your family?"

"Yes," Norman sighed.

"You're Norman Bates?" Allison asked.

"Yes...look...if you don't want to take the job I understand," he sighed, "No hard feelings."

The couple sat in silence. Norman sat on top of the desk expecting what he was used to.

Jeff broke the ice with ease, "I'm sorry. Did we blink?"

"What?" Norman was utterly confused.

"Mr. Bates," Allison starts, "the past is the past. Whatever you did in the past is not what you are doing now. That's all we need. We both need a job. That is our concern. Your past is not our concern."

Norman looked over at Jeff.

"She speaks for both of us," he says.

A smile came over Norman's face, "Well, if you can handle a serial killer I guess you can handle a bunch of teenagers huh?"

Before any of them could laugh a young man entered the parlor area,

"Sorry dude...hope this is cool...but...there's something up with the ice thingy."

"Ice thingy? The ice machine? What's wrong with it?" Norman asks.

"It's like...spitting out ice and stuff."

"Be right there," Norman responds.

"Cool."

The young man turned and exited the parlor. As Norman followed him he turned to his new employees and said,

"And I'm the one on medication. I would just like to point that out."

The couple belted out laughter as Norman walked towards the ice machine.

A few restless days later Norman found himself on autopilot. He ended up at the diner.

He sat and rubbed his face with his hands. It was a good thing he didn't drink. He would have turned into an alcoholic at that point. The teenage women were becoming more brazen and wandering up to his house. Sometimes they would come inside the house and go through his things. None of them ever took anything but it was also a shock to find them there.

Norman also kept seeing visions of his mother. That was becoming a part of his life. Normally if he went a week without seeing her, that meant she would plague him for hours straight; something he didn't look forward to.

On top of everything else Norman was having issues with nightmares. They wouldn't let him sleep. He was contemplating asking for a sleeping aid but he feared it would mess up his anti-psychotic meds, so he resisted and dealt with it.

The sheriff came in a noticed Norman at the high bar first thing. He walked over and sat down next to him.

"Usual sheriff?" Mandy asks.

"Yup. So...what's wrong Norman? What's eaten at ya?" the sheriff asks.

"I don't understand it. The kids…uh…teenagers, think I'm 'cool'?" he says with a half cocked eyebrow and a face full of wonder.

He covered his flustered face with his hands. He couldn't figure out what had happened and why he was getting all this new business. Not that earning the money was a bad thing but he just didn't know where the business was coming from. He was sure they never redid the highway and he knew the access road hadn't been moved either.

"I hate to tell you this Norman but according to these kids you're the next best thing to a cell phone. Think about it from their perspective…they get to meet a real, live, serial killer; reformed mind you," Sheriff Hunt explains honestly.

"If that's why all of them are here, their more messed up then I ever dreamed to be."

"Could be," he snickers.

"So how is business Norman?"

"Oh, I'm—I'm-I'm making…a killing," his gesticulation mannerism seeming to be comical.

"Oh Norman!" he laughs, "I should arrest you for that horrible joke is what I should do."

"Maybe you should. It would give me a break from the kids."

The phone rang at the small eatery.

"Statler's Diner," a waitress answered, "Yeah, he's here. Hang on." The waitress put the phone down and then came over to the sheriff and Norman. "Phone for you Norman," she said.

Norman was as shocked as anyone that he had a phone call. Who would call him?

He got up and walked over to the phone. He picked it up with trepidation, although he wasn't sure why he was nervous about who it would be on the other end.

"Hello? Oh yes...oh really? Well...I'm sitting with the sheriff. Right I'll be right over. Thanks."

The sheriff watched as Norman walked back over to him, "Trouble?" he asks.

"Apparently some of the people that have been vandalizing my house were caught by Jeff. He's holding them there at the motel now."

The sheriff stood up, put on his hat and started walking toward the door, "Put that meal on hold Mandy."

"We'll do sheriff," Mandy replies.

"Let's go Norman. I'd be happy to give ya a ride."

The two exited the diner and headed toward the Bates Motel.

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